


To Have and To Hold

by QueenOfTheDreamers (QueenOfDreamers)



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Falling Out of Love, Major Illness, Questioned paternity, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Vicbourne, Waltzing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfDreamers/pseuds/QueenOfTheDreamers
Summary: Victoria manages to fall out of love with her husband, Albert. Filled with regret, she flings herself back into the arms of her beloved Lord M, who is shocked but pleased to find that the Queen's heart beats for him alone. But there are complications - a royal heir, a scourge of illness that strikes down members of the Royal Household, and more. Vicbourne AU COMPLETE.
Relationships: Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha/Victoria of the United Kingdom (1819-1901), William Lamb 2nd Viscount Melbourne & Victoria of the United Kingdom (1819-1901), William Lamb 2nd Viscount Melbourne/Victoria of the United Kingdom (1819-1901)
Comments: 378
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

He watched her fall in love with him, keeping his distance, keeping his face stoic and steady in her presence. One day, he looked out the window and saw her riding out alone with Albert, and he thought he would be sick on the floor. Then she announced she would marry the German boy, and Melbourne's heart ached like it hadn't done in decades.

It wouldn't have hurt so very badly to watch her descend into the depths of true love if he hadn't loved her so deeply himself. But here they all were.

She wore white Honiton lace. She wore delicate satin slippers. She had orange blossoms in her hair. She had a sapphire brooch that her beloved Albert had given her. And when she came walking down the aisle, Melbourne had felt his chest clutch. She was so beautiful, he'd thought. She was so lovely, but she was marrying someone else. She belonged not only to England now, but to Prince Albert. She was his. She would have no more need of her Lord M after the wedding.

Later that night, he'd gently kissed her cheek, and she'd told him that she would always remember the things that had passed between them. The riding out. The conversations in a warm drawing-room whilst rain pattered outside. The meetings between Queen and Prime Minister. The times she'd shown off her artwork to him with the pride of a child.

She'd show her artwork to Albert now.

Victoria and Albert went to Windsor for their honeymoon, and whilst they were gone, all Melbourne could think of was that German boy putting his hands on the Queen. He'd do worse than put his hands on her. It hurt, deeply, profoundly, to contemplate the physical relationship between Victoria and Albert. Melbourne knew he ought not think about it at all. What Her Majesty did with Prince Albert was none of his business. It was not his place to think of that.

When Caroline had been with Byron, Melbourne had found himself imagining all the things the other man was doing to his wife. Now he found himself in the same predicament with the Queen. But the Queen was not his wife. She wasn't even his…

She was his sovereign. She was his monarch. That was all. He was her Prime Minister. Nothing more.

One night, not long after Victoria's wedding, Lord Melbourne lay in his bed at Dover House and stared at the ceiling, wondering what it would have felt like to kiss her lips instead of kissing her cheek. He wondered what it would have felt like to put his hand to the small of her back, to cup her jaw in his hand, and to lower his mouth to hers.

Then he realised he was a complete fool for her, and he realised there was no time or space to be a fool. He had a job to do, and so did she. And she had a husband.

She had a husband.

He was in love with her. He knew that now. He'd been in love for quite some time. But she had a husband now. So Melbourne shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, wishing her happiness.

* * *

"Albert! Look at the drawing I've done. What do you think?"

Victoria rose from the divan upon which she'd been sitting with an easel and sketch paper. Albert had come into the drawing room, and he smiled a little at her.

"More drawings," he said tightly. "You do like to draw."

"I drew you!" Victoria exclaimed. "I've done it from memory."

She thrust her drawing at Albert, who took the sketch and sighed. His dark brows furrowed, and he told Victoria,

"My eyes are a bit too far apart. And my nose… it isn't quite…"

"I did my best," Victoria scoffed. "It was from memory."

"Yes, yes. Of course, it's quite good," Albert assured her, but he was still frowning deeply. "You're a gifted artist, Victoria."

"You're mocking me!" Victoria raised her eyebrows, and Albert pursed his lips.

"I would never mock you. I critiqued your art when I ought not to have done so. I do apologise. Forgive me, I beg you."

"All is forgotten," Victoria grumbled. She took the drawing back and tore it up. "It was not a good likeness, anyhow."

"Victoria…" Albert huffed. He appeared to pivot then, changing his tack to put her in a better mood. "What would you like to do today?"

"There is a cold rain," Victoria noted. "We shan't be able to ride out."

"No, I suppose not," Albert said. He cleared his throat and asked, "Have you asked for anything specific for dinner tonight? Perhaps that would make you happy."

"I've already been shown the menu for tonight," Victoria said. "Poached eggs, chicken soup, fried sole, roast beef with asparagus, vol-au-vents with grilled eggs and sauce, and apricot pudding."

"Victoria." Albert touched his fingertips to his forehead and whispered, "You mustn't keep eating like this."

Her eyes went wide. "You're the one who just told me to arrange for my favourite foods for dinner!"

"Yes, but be reasonable, Victoria," Albert said sharply. "A soup, a fish, a meat, and a dessert. Is that not sufficient to nourish the body?"

"Eating is an enjoyable experience," Victoria said, cocking up a brow, "and I shall enjoy myself when I partake in food. The more of it there is, the merrier I feel at the dinner table."

"Then you shall become quite fat," Albert said plainly. Victoria put her hands on her waist and heaved out an angry breath.

"You sound just like Uncle Leopold," she complained. "He used to tell me that I ate too much and too quickly."

"Perhaps Uncle Leopold was simply looking out for your best interests," Albert suggested, and Victoria narrowed her eyes at him.

"You wish for a lithe, svelte wife. And yet I am expected to bear children, a feat which almost always enlarges a woman."

"No need to further enlarge oneself with exorbitant eating habits, though, hm?" Albert seemed quite serious, and Victoria choked out a garbled noise of disbelief. She brushed by him, and he called from after her,

"Forgive me, Victoria; I -"

" _Forgive me, Victoria,_ " she repeated, whirling around and glaring at him. "You've asked that of me twice today."

Albert licked his lips and said cautiously, "I am still learning to be a husband."

"Well, I suggest you utilise today's disagreements as an opportunity for study," Victoria said sharply. "I shall see you at dinner."

She stamped out of the room rather ungracefully, leaving Albert behind.

* * *

"Your Majesty!"

Melbourne immediately bowed as Queen Victoria came into the small parlour where he'd been waiting for her. He'd come to Buckingham Palace to discuss China, but he could see at once that her mind was not set for politics.

"Lord M." Victoria pinched her lips and strode right up to him. He raised his eyes and searched hers, his stomach aching. Then she snapped at him,

"Am I fat?"

Now Melbourne's eyes went wide and round, and he shook his head wildly.

"Wherever would you get such an idea as that, Ma'am?"

"From my husband." She folded her hands before her stomach - her _flat_ stomach - and she gnawed hard on her lip in a somewhat uncharacteristic display of stress. Her eyes welled then, and she wondered aloud, "Do I eat too much?"

"You are the queen," Melbourne reminded her gently, "and if you wish for six-course dinners every night, then you must -"

"You have not answered my question, Lord M." Victoria knitted her fingers together anxiously. "Do I eat too much?"

"I do think," Melbourne said quite carefully, "that if you were to continue with the sort of extravagant dinners that are regular occurrences here at the palace, you might find yourself growing a bit larger than you'd like. It might do, perhaps, to cut a course here or there. Or to only partake in a few bites of each. Then you might find yourself maintaining a size that pleases you. But it is your opinion on this that matters. Not mine, and, with all due respect, not His Royal Highness', either."

"Albert says Uncle Leopold was right when he told me I stuffed myself. Leopold told me that when I was a child, and Albert says Uncle Leopold was right."

"Your Majesty," Melbourne pronounced, "the very last thing I wish to do is to come between a husband and a wife on the matter of a disagreement. Least of all when one party is my sovereign. Though, of course, you know I'll always take your side."

She laughed a little then, and he tried to smirk at her. But his eyes seared as he listened to her laughter, and his chest thudded as he took in the sight of her. She had on a beautiful lilac-coloured gown of fine silk. Her hair was neatly tied into pendant braids. She had on an amethyst and diamond necklace, and her face was like porcelain. She was achingly beautiful, he thought.

"No, Ma'am," he said softly. "You are not fat."

"I shall have them take the vol-au-vents off the menu for tonight," Victoria said. Then she perked up a little and asked, "You'll join us, won't you? For dinner?"

"You and…" Melbourne let his voice die. _You and Albert? And me?_ He shook his head a little and said, "I think you must treasure this time with your new husband and dine alone with him."

"Oh, but we aren't dining alone tonight. The honeymoon has passed," Victoria said. "My ladies will be there, and so will my mother, so it's not… you would not be out of place. Your presence at dinner is deeply desired, Lord M."

He blinked. "If you want me there, Ma'am, then I shall be there."

She grinned and reached for his hand. "Thank you."

* * *

She ate sparingly, Melbourne noticed. She enjoyed eating. He knew that of her. He knew that she liked the taste of food, the feel of it in her mouth. She'd told him as much one time when they'd been riding out. But tonight she had two bites of poached egg before she just sat there with her fork in her hand. She only had a little bit of fish; her soup went mostly uneaten. Melbourne found himself frowning at the way she was depriving herself; ought she not make herself happy? Then he saw Albert lean over and whisper something to her, and when Victoria subsequently set down her knife and fork, Melbourne felt his cheeks go hot. Albert was driving Victoria like a carriage, he thought, and he didn't care for it. Not one bit.

"How are you doing these days, William?" asked Emma Portman from Melbourne's left. He turned his face to her and gave her a smile that he knew did not reach his eyes. He murmured,

"I'm so glad she's found happiness."

"That is a very peculiar response," Emma noted, spooning dessert into her mouth. "Are _you_ happy tonight, William?"

"You pry, Emma," Melbourne said testily. "You know I do not like it when you pry."

"Perhaps if you did not keep yourself so very closed off from your friends," Emma retorted. She sighed deeply and glanced towards the queen. "She seems unhappy these last few days. Has something happened?"

"How would I know?" Melbourne demanded gruffly. "I am not her friend, not now that she is a married woman."

"You and I are friends," Emma pointed out, setting down her spoon, "and I am married, and you have never so much as laid a finger upon me, William. So, do tell me how she has managed to so swiftly abandon the life preserver to whom she clung for so long. I do not think it possible. In fact, I presume you know exactly what is troubling our queen."

"She worries," Melbourne said with caution, "that she overindulges at meals. She does not wish to become… she does not wish for her appearance to morph in a manner that displeases her."

"What a very diplomatic way of saying that she thinks she's going to get fat," Emma laughed. Melbourne scowled.

"I find no humour in the insecurity of a young woman, much less the insecurity of a newly-married monarch."

"You're quite right, of course." Emma nodded. "She is lucky to have you during this time of… insecurity."

"In many other ways, however, she is quite secure," Melbourne said. "I know she loves her Prince deeply. I am happy for her, that she has managed a marriage of love."

"Then you are a good man, William Lamb," Emma said, and she turned to talk to her husband.

* * *

"Enter." Victoria sat up in her bed and watched as the door to the room opened. In walked Albert, wearing a fine dressing gown over his nightshirt. He shut the door and said,

"I have come to lie with you, my dear wife."

"Well, when you put it that way," Victoria scoffed. She smiled crookedly and nodded. Albert climbed up onto the bed and knelt as he shucked his dressing gown. He peeled his nightshirt off over his head, and Victoria's stomach suddenly churned.

She had thoroughly enjoyed their wedding night and the nights on their honeymoon. But now, with Albert naked before her, she found herself…

Repulsed.

She shut her eyes and tried to figure the source of her revulsion. Had it been their arguments about her drawing, about eating? Yes, she thought. That was part of it. And then there was the way that Albert tapped his lips together after sipping wine. There was the way that Albert climbed so awkwardly into his saddle when they rode out. There was his obsession with mechanical objects and the way he spoke rather condescendingly to Victoria about things she'd never had the opportunity to study.

He irked her, she thought. She opened her eyes and stared at him, and his face was troubled.

"What is wrong?" he asked gently. He reached for her face, and when his hand touched her cheek, Victoria shook her head.

"Nothing is wrong. Let me… erm…" She reached down under the blankets and nudged up her nightgown. She removed it and then muttered, "It's going to be a colossal mess. My monthly bleeding started this morning, you know, and -"

"Wait." Albert held up a hand, and Victoria froze with her nightgown halfway off. Albert shook his head. "You can't make a child when you're bleeding, Victoria."

"Oh." She felt her cheeks go hot. "I wouldn't know."

"No. You wouldn't. They hardly taught you anything. Poor Victoria." Albert shook his head, and Victoria felt shame wash over her. She was ignorant, she thought, and Albert liked to point that out. She pulled her nightgown back on and cleared her throat.

"You've informed me that a woman might bring her husband pleasure during 'inopportune times.' Is this one of the times you were referencing?"

"Yes, of course, but you needn't touch me," Albert insisted. "It is a waste, I think. I shall be with you again once you are no longer indisposed. And, I should tell you, Victoria, that your bleeding means we did not conceive a child on our honeymoon."

"Oh. Well. There's loads of time," Victoria said dismissively, waving a hand. Albert nodded.

"Of course, my darling queen. Lots of time. I shall leave you to sleep in peace."

"I think I'll read," Victoria said, suddenly very aware of and self conscious of her lack of knowledge. "I was reading Shakespeare this morning; perhaps I'll read something else tonight."

"Shakespeare." Albert curled up half his mouth. "You do enjoy your Shakespeare."

"Yes, I do," Victoria said a bit defensively. "And my opera. I quite like my little follies."

"I am glad you have your Shakespeare, and your opera, and your drawing," said Albert. "I am glad you have those little things to make you happy."

 _Happy._ Victoria's eyes burned as she thought to herself that this marriage had been intended to make both parties _happy._ But she didn't feel very happy, and she wasn't sure quite why. Little things about Albert annoyed her, but that ought not be enough to strike down her happiness.

Then a face came into her mind, along with the whispered word - _happy._ It was Lord M. He made her happy, she thought. Or, at least, he'd made her happy when she'd spent all of her time in his presence. They'd been inseparable, the two of them, and she had been happy. Her Lord M had made her happy.

Now she looked to where Albert was pulling on his nightshirt and sliding his dressing gown over his arms, and she thought that perhaps she'd expected too much of him. He was a prince, and she'd been pressured to marry him, and she'd convinced herself that her life with him would be as happy as her time with Lord M had been.

But that was impossible, Victoria thought as Albert climbed off of her bed. No one could make her as happy as Lord M had done. No one, including Albert, ever would.

**Author's Note: Your readership and reviews are greatly appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

"How can stamped and unstamped papers be _that_ interesting?" Lord Melbourne huffed to his butler as the door of Dover House was shut behind him. He shut his eyes and touched his forehead, tired after a long day in the House of Lords. The day had been spent on drudgery that had seemed to rile up even the most docile Parliamentarians into a frenzy. This bit of politics, the part where screaming matches broke out over minutiae, was the part that Melbourne wanted to leave long behind. He wanted to go to Brocket Hall and write about St Chrysostom. He wanted to _relax._

"Forgive me, Prime Minister," said the butler softly, "but you have company waiting."

The butler gave Melbourne a grave look, and Melbourne scowled. Which Member of Parliament had beat him here? It was more than likely someone who wanted to berate him over stamps.

"It is Her Majesty the Queen," said the butler, and Melbourne's frown deepened. He was breathless for a moment, remembering the other time she'd come to Dover House unexpected. He licked his lips and demanded,

"Where is she?"

"She is in the left parlour, sir. She's been given tea. She has been here for over an hour."

"Mustn't keep her waiting any longer, then." Melbourne pinched his lips. He handed his butler his hat and coat, and he wrung his hands together as he stalked through the round entrance hall. He went down the corridor and through his large drawing room. The parlour on the left was elegantly appointed, but a part of Melbourne wished he'd been able to prepare for Victoria coming here.

He walked through the open double doors, and Victoria stood from the chair where she was holding a cup of tea. Melbourne gulped and walked over to her, genuflecting onto one knee and kissing the hand she held out for him. He rose, and then he sighed and looked around in confusion. She was alone. Where was her chaperone?

"I came _in cognito_ ," Victoria said, and Melbourne scoffed.

"Yes. That's always very convincing, Your Majesty. My butler has no idea that you're here."

She smirked at his sarcasm and gestured toward the chair opposite the one she'd been sitting in. She sank down, and Melbourne immediately planted himself in the other chair. He glanced at the teapot on the tray that had been put on the low table between them.

"Please do have some tea," Victoria invited him, and he chewed his lip a little as he poured himself a cup. He wanted something stronger, all of a sudden. He dropped some sugar into the tea and brought it to his lips. He set it back down at once and dared to ask,

"Does His Royal Highness know you've come… _incognito_ … to Dover House, Ma'am?"

"No. But he doesn't need to know everything I do," Victoria sniffed. She set down her own teacup and folded her hands on her lap. "What was the issue at hand today in the House of Lords?"

"Stamps, Ma'am," Melbourne smiled. "It was vicious."

"Viciousness over stamps? No wonder you so despise politicking," Victoria grinned. She seemed nervous, Melbourne noticed then. Her breath was coming quick and shallow, and her hands were trembling on her lap. Melbourne furrowed his brows and asked as gently as he could,

"Ma'am, are you… has something happened?"

Her eyes watered visibly then, and she whispered, "It's Albert. Or, rather, it's me. Well, it's us, you understand."

"I'm afraid I do not," Melbourne said with great caution, "but I am willing to listen to anything you might have to say about, well, anything."

"You see? There it is." Victoria began to cry then, which made Melbourne's chest pull and made his stomach queasy. Tears boiled over Victoria's eyes as she said softly, "You are so good and kind to me. Albert doesn't _mean_ to be cruel, I don't think, but…"

She trailed off, and then she looked away and swiped a knuckle under her eye.

"He was asleep beside me, and he was snoring so loudly that I couldn't sleep, so I woke him up and told him that I -"

"Your Majesty." Melbourne shut his eyes, but Victoria continued,

"I told him that I couldn't sleep for his snoring, and he said it wasn't his fault, and I said that perhaps if he hadn't such a very large nose…"

Melbourne stifled a laugh. He choked out a little noise as he struggled to stay still and quiet. He planted a steady look on his face and mumbled,

"I'm sure he was quite offended."

"Yes, quite." Victoria sniffled. "He told me then that I had a _hurtful streak in me._ Only, I was just frustrated and tired, and his snoring had driven me mad. So he left."

"I do not think I ought to be privy to this information, Ma'am," Melbourne told her. She looked back at him, her eyes rimmed red, and she said,

"I can't say any of this to my ladies, nor to my mother. My spats with Albert are mine to bear. You used to let me tell you everything."

"Well, things are different now, Ma'am," Melbourne said, tipping his head. His own eyes burned then as he realised just how different things really were. She'd had a husband snoring in her bed. She'd worn Honiton lace…

His breath accelerated shakily in his chest as he heard himself say,

"You mustn't gossip about him with me, Ma'am; it isn't appropriate."

"You are not interested in my troubles?" Victoria asked, her voice cracking. Melbourne scoffed and shook his head.

"On the contrary; your troubles keep me awake at night. But I can be an interloper into disagreements you and His Royal Highness have."

"Am I not permitted to simply come to you and pour out my frustrations?" Victoria's eyes were wide and searching, and Melbourne gulped.

"Of course you may always come to me," he whispered, "Your Majesty."

"He told me that I disgusted him," Victoria said, and Melbourne scowled.

"I can't imagine he would possibly say such a thing. Not that I doubt you, Ma'am, but for him to… I'm certain there's context."

"I chew my thumbnail," Victoria said, her cheeks pinking. It's a habit I've had all my life. My mother used to scold me for it. My Uncle Leopold scolded me for it. And now my husband tells me that it is a repulsive thing to do, and that he does not want to touch my hand after I've been chewing my thumbnail. He says it is unhygienic. Of course, it is just a nervous habit."

"Of course." Melbourne bowed his head and laced his fingers through each other. "I think, if I may speak plainly, Ma'am, that there are growing pains at the beginning of a marriage. One never knows that the other snores until one attempts to sleep beside the snorer. One doesn't notice nervous habits until they make one peevish."

"You think Albert and I will learn to ignore these things about one another?" Victoria sounded incredulous. She sighed and shook her head. "How am I meant to sleep with that snoring?"

Melbourne smiled a little and said, "You've your own quarters, Ma'am. Perhaps maintain them as your own."

"Yes, of course. But he does treat me a bit like I'm a child," Victoria said. "It isn't as though he tells me flatly that I am fat; instead he intimates that perhaps I ought to eat less food. It isn't that he says I am bad with art; instead he points out all the flaws in my drawings. He doesn't tell me that I am a disgusting person. He says that my habits make him feel ill. And he criticised me for wearing my favourite pearls the other day; he said they did not well match my gown."

Melbourne raised his eyebrows. "I was unaware that the Prince was so keen on fashion."

Victoria giggled a little then. She shut her eyes and shook her head. Then she stared straight at Melbourne and said in a very fine imitation of Albert's German accent,

" _Zat colour of pink wiss pearls… it is an immature look for you, I think._ "

"An immature look," Melbourne repeated, laughing a bit. "Of course, we want to ensure that our very young queen looks sufficiently mature."

Victoria shrugged. "I thought the pink gown looked pretty with pearls."

"I'm certain you looked lovely, Ma'am. Radiant. Like always."

He caught himself then and looked away. His breath hitched in his chest and he realised he'd just complimented Victoria far too intimately. He opened his mouth to apologise, thought he must look like a fish, shut his mouth, and turned his eyes to her.

"You see?" she whispered, "You care for me, Lord M. You are kind to me."

"I…" Melbourne felt like a complete fool all of a sudden. He licked his lips and whispered, "I only wish for your happiness, Ma'am. Nothing more and nothing less. I used to be aspirational. I used to want things for myself. Now I find that your contentment matters a great deal to me. And so, I am displeased to hear that you and His Royal Highness have been experiencing troubles. But I do think you will find your way out of them."

"He'll make me happy, you think?" Victoria asked. Melbourne hesitated just a moment too long. He gulped hard and finally nodded. In a solemn voice, he assured Victoria,

"You will make one another happy."

He and Victoria met one another's eyes directly then, and for a very long moment, he just gazed into her eyes and breathed. Her beautiful blue eyes shone back at him, and her lips parted a little bit. Her bottom lip trembled, and she said,

"I ought to have stayed like Elizabeth. Alone."

"She wasn't alone, remember?" Melbourne swallowed past the knot in his throat and whispered, "She had companions."

"A married queen is not entitled to a companion," Victoria said. She stared out the window at the darkness and told Melbourne, "I need to leave now. I should not have come, perhaps."

"You are always welcome, Your Majesty." Melbourne waited for her to stand, and when she did, he told her, "You may always come to me to pour out your frustrations."

She smiled sadly at him and reached for his fingers. He jolted just a little when her fingers curled around his, and he found himself pulling his hand away.

"Let's get you into your carriage, Ma'am. It is getting late."

* * *

"Victoria."

She startled as the door to her dressing room opened. Skerrett and Mrs Jenkins gasped and descended into curtsies at once. Albert stood there, his face stony, and he asked,

"Are you very nearly dressed? I must speak with you."

"I only need my… my pearls." Victoria winced, remembering the way he'd told her that she'd looked too young with her pale pink gown and her single strand of pearls. She stood stock still as Skerrett clasped the triple strand of teardrop pearls around her neck, and she brushed her hands over her midnight blue gown.

"Can this wait until after dinner, Albert?" she asked. "I hate to make everyone wait for us."

"It will only take a moment, if you please," Albert said. Victoria let out a shaking breath as Skerrett stuck two more pins into Victoria's hair. Albert coughed a few times, and Victoria noted quietly,

"You've had a cough for days. You are ill."

"It is, I believe, merely a cold," said Albert. "Please, may we speak?"

Victoria huffed a breath and walked away from Skerrett and Mrs Jenkins. She walked from her dressing room into her bedroom, and Albert followed her. She raised her eyebrows at him and asked,

"Is something wrong? Other than that hideous cough of yours?"

"As I said, I believe it to be a cold," Albert said. "I will not attend dinner; I do not wish to make anyone else ill. But that is not what I have come to speak with you about."

"What's wrong, Albert?" Victoria nervously toyed with the ring on her finger.

"Did you go to Dover House by yourself?" Albert put his hands on his hips.

"How would you… who told you such a thing?" Victoria demanded. Albert narrowed his eyes.

"That is a _yes,_ I believe. Victoria. I trust you. I trust Lord Melbourne. But if word spreads that the married queen paid a solitary visit to her Prime Minister, it would be… you do not want a scandal any more than I do, hmm?"

"Of course I don't want a scandal," Victoria said. "I went to speak with an old friend. What is the harm in that?"

"I think it best if your conversations with Lord Melbourne… happen… here at the…" Albert stopped then and coughed four or five times. He pulled out a handkerchief and coughed a few more times. He cleared his throat and tucked the handkerchief away. "I think it best if your conversations with Lord Melbourne happen here at the palace, Victoria."

"You're avoiding dinner, then?" she said. "I suppose I shall have to rely on my own self-control when it comes to the quantity of bites taken."

"Victoria…" Albert coughed roughly a few times. He shook his head in frustration. "I do not wish to argue with you about food ever again."

"Right. We shall limit our arguments the habits that drive one another mad, and to criticising each other's fashion and endeavours and -"

"You are being absurd," Albert said softly. Victoria glared.

"I am your wife, but I am also your queen. Kindly do not interrupt me."

"I apologise." Albert pulled out his handkerchief and coughed into it a few more times. "With your leave, I shall take to bed. This cold is persistent; I believe some rest would do me good."

"You need a doctor," Victoria said stiffly, but Albert shook his head and insisted,

"It is nothing, really. Do not trouble yourself over me. Please enjoy your dinner."

"What little of it that I eat," Victoria nodded. Albert tossed his hands up and said,

"I never meant to hurt you with that."

"All right." Victoria glanced towards the door. "I ought to go; people are waiting."

"You are allowed to make them wait," Albert reminded her. He coughed again, into a fist this time, and Victoria scowled.

"I think your doctor should see you. In fact, I shan't be satisfied if your doctor does _not_ see you. Arrange for it, if you please."

"Yes, of course. Give Lord Melbourne my regards at dinner," Albert requested. Victoria stiffened.

"How did you know he would be there?"

"Because you haven't seen him in two days," Albert said primly, "so of course he will be at dinner. Please tell him that I said hello. And remember what we have agreed upon, Victoria - scandal will do no good for anyone."

"Go rest," Victoria ordered him. "I want you well soon so that we can ride out together and sit together in front of a fire, and…"

She trailed off, staring at her husband and realising as she studied his face that she did not love him. She had thought she did. She had thought herself madly in love with him. But right this very moment, after the gleam of new marriage had worn off, Victoria was not in love. She had fallen out of love.

She shut her eyes and saw a face - Lord M's face in Dover House where he'd told her she was always radiant. Victoria huffed a breath and walked up to Albert. She brushed her fingers over his chest and murmured,

"Rest well, Albert. I do hate to see you unwell."

"Goodnight, Victoria." Albert bowed his head and walked past her, coughing a few more times as he left the bedroom.

**Author's Note: Thank you** _ **so much**_ **for the kind feedback on the first chapter of this story! I am thrilled that there are people excited to read this. Please let me know what you think of the story as it continues.**


	3. Chapter 3

Victoria took a bite of suckling pig and chewed it. She listened as Harriet Sutherland and Emma Portman discussed a new style of silk that was in vogue for the season. Their husbands laughed at their obsession with fashion, and then Victoria's mother chimed in,

"It does a woman well to focus on her appearance. It is a form of discipline, I think, to look one's best."

"Quite right." Lord Portman raised his glass of wine. There was quiet then, until Victoria asked,

"Lord Melbourne, has the hullabaloo over stamps calmed down?"

Melbourne licked his lips and gave her a little smile. "Yes, Ma'am. We've moved on to ironmongering."

"Thrilling," deadpanned the Queen's mother. She put a bite of suckling pig into her own mouth, and Victoria felt cross as she set down her knife and fork. Everyone else set down their cutlery when the monarch did. The next course was dessert - rice pudding with cinnamon. As Victoria spooned some into her mouth, she eyed Melbourne and let a new conversation take over the table.

"Lord M," she said, just loudly enough for him to hear, "will you stay after dinner?"

"Of course, Ma'am," Melbourne said, looking surprised. "Is all well?"

"I'd like to speak with you," Victoria said tightly. His pale eyes flashed, but he nodded and said,

"Of course, Your Majesty."

After dinner, Victoria rose and made her way out of the dining room. Her ladies followed her, and she turned round and told them,

"I shan't be needing you this evening, ladies. I will be on my own. Thank you."

They all descended into deep curtsies and turned to go in the other direction, and Victoria gnashed her teeth a little. She curled her hands against one another and waited in the corridor, pacing like a caged dog. Finally the figure of Lord Melbourne appeared, and he tugged at the bottom hem of his waistcoat as he walked towards her. He bowed his head a little and said,

"You have need of me, Ma'am?"

She shivered at that. He didn't realise, she thought, what sort of need she had. He didn't know that she wanted him instead of her husband.

"Will you sit with me whilst I draw something, Lord M?" Victoria asked, and Melbourne raised his eyebrows.

"Of course I will."

He walked with her to the large, elaborately decorated space where she always did her drawing. She made her way swiftly to the desk and pulled out a few sheets of drawing paper. She pulled a pencil and a rubber out of a drawer and sat at the desk. She pulled off her gloves and set them aside. She gestured for Melbourne to sit in the armchair near the desk, and as he sank down, he asked gently,

"How have things been, Ma'am?"

Her eyes burned at the question. He cared about her. He cared if she was happy. She blinked a few times and seethed through her teeth. She brought her pencil to her paper and began to sketch a willow tree.

"Things have been… Albert somehow found out that I went to Dover House. He says there will be a scandal if I do it again."

"He may not be wrong about that," Melbourne said softly. "May I ask what you're drawing?"

"The gardens," Victoria whispered. She began filling in the willow tree and shaped its trunk with careful strokes. "I do so enjoy riding out with you, Lord M. In the gardens."

"It's been some time," Melbourne murmured. "I believe the last time you and I rode out together was in the autumn."

"Doesn't it seem like ages ago?" Victoria asked, and she sniffled a little. "Too long."

Melbourne was silent for a long while, and Victoria found herself sketching hedges behind the willow tree.

"I have heard," Melbourne said at last, "that His Royal Highness is afflicted with a cough. I do hope he is all right."

"I've insisted that his doctor examine him." Victoria pinched her lips. "I won't have him ill. He must be in good, strong health."

"Perhaps it is just a cold," Melbourne suggested, and Victoria turned to him.

"That's what he says. It's just a cold."

She turned back to her drawing then, and she sketched the perimeter of a small pond in which she often saw ducks. She added little ripples to the water's surface and shaded it a bit, and then she realised no one had spoken in the room in a very long time. It was quite comfortable, just sitting here with Lord M.

"You must be exhausted. So much happening in the government," Victoria said. She heard Melbourne sigh, and from behind her, he told her,

"Politics are inherently exhausting, Ma'am. I'm not any more tired than I've been for the past few decades. Well. That's not entirely true. These past several nights, I confess to a difficulty with sleep."

"Did you try warm milk?" Victoria asked as she added sketched ducks to her little pond. "When I can't sleep, I find that warmed milk with honey soothes me."

"I tried whiskey," Melbourne said cautiously, "and it didn't work. Perhaps I shall try your honeyed milk."

"What has been keeping you awake?" Victoria asked, and she heard Melbourne's breath shake a little behind her. She stopped sketching and turned round, frowning at him. "What's been troubling you, Lord M?"

He shut his eyes and shook his head. "Memories, Ma'am. Happier times haunting me. That's all."

He must have meant his son, she thought. Or perhaps good times in his marriage to Caroline. Those must have been the happy times he meant. But then he whispered, his eyes still shut.

"Riding out in the gardens. I did not realise the last time would be the last, you understand."

"Oh." Victoria gulped. She vividly recalled the last time she and Lord Melbourne had ridden out alone together. Albert had already come from Coburg, and she and Melbourne had spent the entire ride discussing him. The next time Victoria had ridden out, she'd been with Albert, and Melbourne had not come.

"I made a mistake." Victoria froze with her fingers around her pencil. She set the pencil down and buried her face in her hands.

"I beg your pardon, Ma'am?" Melbourne asked. She turned to look at him, knowing her eyes were going red and welling up. She always seemed to be crying around Lord Melbourne. Why was that? He didn't seem to mind. She chomped her lip hard and then studied his pale eyes, his sharp features, and she told him frankly,

"I was feeling enormous pressure to marry. I did not like the options. So I convinced myself, I think, that I felt something powerful for Albert. I tried to convince myself that he and I would be happy, and by our wedding day, I had managed to make that the truth in my mind."

Melbourne's mouth fell open. He shook his head a little and insisted,

"You two will make one another happy, Ma'am; it's just -"

"No. We will not, because we were married under the pretense of being in love," Victoria said. "There is a problem, however; I have fallen out of love with him."

"Ma'am," Melbourne whispered. His face softened immensely and he tipped his head as he said in a gentle, kind voice, "You and he have been sniping. You've discovered the little things that bother and distract. But I know that you are very fond of him. You will find happiness with him."

"I could have had happiness with _you_ ," Victoria choked out, clapping her hand to her mouth as she realised what she'd just said. Melbourne looked positively shocked. He dragged his thumb over his bottom lip and looked away from her as he mumbled,

"I was never, ever an option for you, Your Majesty."

"I could have stayed unwed," she said morosely, "and I could have had nights like these with you… nights of comfortable quiet."

"I am here now," he insisted somewhat breathlessly, but Victoria said,

"Only because my husband is stricken with a cough. You know very well that he would not care for you and I being alone in this room after dinner."

Melbourne shut his eyes. "And he would be correct in thinking it inappropriate. With your leave, Ma'am, I shall go."

"No. You have not got my leave," Victoria snapped. Melbourne stared at her, surprised, but she told him, "I want what you and I had for all that wonderful while. When you were not only my Prime Minister, but my fiercest friend."

"Things are different now," he said desperately, but Victoria flung herself to her feet and snarled,

"I do not wish for things to be different. I have made a mistake."

"It's far too late, Ma'am, to go back to the way things were." Melbourne flew out of his chair when Victoria stood. They faced one another then, and Victoria balled her fists at her sides. She finally whispered to Melbourne,

"Then I regret it. Marrying him."

"Don't say such a thing." Melbourne's brows crumpled. "You were the most beautiful bride, Ma'am, and that day was the beginning of a long life with him."

He walked over towards Victoria and picked up her drawing from the table. He studied it and murmured,

"The willow tree. The ducks. Yes, I know this scene well. You've captured it perfectly, Ma'am."

"Do you think so?"

"Perfectly." Melbourne set the drawing down and turned his eyes to Victoria. He towered above her, and as he looked down into her eyes, she realised they were standing quite near one another. She flashed back, all of a sudden, to the night of her Coronation Ball, when she'd wanted to kiss him, when she'd danced with him.

Boldly, and without hesitation, she reached up and planted a hand flat upon Melbourne's chest. She looked up into his eyes and said quietly,

"I made a mistake."

He blinked, opened his mouth a bit, and shook his head.

"No, Ma'am. You did what you did because your heart and your duty compelled you."

"I could have been happy," she whispered, and he shut his eyes as he told her,

"It couldn't go on forever."

"Lord M," Victoria hummed, and she waited for him to open his eyes. She searched his gaze, and he seemed to be studying her right back. She put her other hand on his chest, and he reached up to wrap his fingers around her wrists. He dragged his thumbs on her inner forearms, making Victoria shiver and making her stomach churn with confusion. Her heart raced as he just stared down at her, and she remembered what he'd asked her on her wedding day.

_May I kiss the bride?_

He'd placed a chaste kiss upon her cheek, and then she'd run away from him; she'd run off to Albert and had left Melbourne behind.

That had been a mistake.

"Please," she whispered, "kiss me again."

He licked his lips and shook his head. "We both know… that I cannot…"

"Lord M," Victoria repeated softly, tipping her head. "Please."

His throat bobbed beneath his cravat then, and he leaned down and whispered,

"God save me."

His lips brushed against hers for just a moment, and then a crackling sense of need crashed through Victoria's veins. She squeezed her fingers, cinching his shirt and waistcoat, and when he kissed her again, he pressed harder against her mouth. She sucked in air hard through her nose, but before she could kiss him back, he'd pulled away and stood upright. His cheeks were a very dark crimson, and he looked terrified. His hands tightened a little on Victoria's wrists, and after a moment, he lowered their hands and released her. He took a step back and muttered,

"I need to leave, Your Majesty."

"Lord M." Victoria was desperate now. Her breath heaved beneath her corset, and she felt dizzy. She whispered frantically, " _That_ was no mistake."

"I beg Your Majesty to dismiss me for the evening," Melbourne said tightly, "and to ensure the wellbeing of His Royal Highness."

Victoria went cold then. He was rejecting her. After kissing her. She swallowed hard but nodded and told him,

"You have our permission to withdraw, Lord Melbourne. I shall keep you apprised of Albert's health."

"Thank you, Ma'am." Melbourne bowed and backed toward the door, reaching behind himself to open the door and leave. Once he'd gone, Victoria stood alone in the room, staring down at the drawing of the willow tree, remembering the feel of his kiss, and she began to cry harder than she'd cried in a very long while.

**Author's Note: Well, we're starting to see some Vicbourne coming out, but they've got a long way to go. And what's up with Albert's health? As always, thank you so very much for reading, and a massive thank you for any feedback.**


	4. Chapter 4

Lord Melbourne stood in his greenhouse with his sleeves rolled up, his wavy hair a mess as he sweated in the humid space. He selected a larger pot of decorated crockery and brought it over to his new hibiscus. He covered the drainage holes in the pot with a filter and used a trowel to bring fresh soil from a burlap sack into the pot. Scoop after scoop, he filled the new pot with layers of soil. Then he used his tin watering can and moistened the hibiscus plant to keep the roots together. He reached into the smaller pot and extracted the hibiscus root ball, putting it into the larger pot. He scooped some more soil over the top and patted gently, and then he heard a voice from the door.

"My Lord? Sir?"

"By the waterfall," Melbourne called. There were footsteps behind him, and Melbourne rubbed his hands on the linen apron he had tied around his waist. He turned to see Brocket Hall's butler striding towards him, a small silver platter in his hands. Upon the platter was a sealed envelope, and Melbourne suspected he knew who it was from. Sure enough, the butler announced,

"A letter from Buckingham Palace, My Lord."

"Thank you," Melbourne mumbled. He plucked the letter off the platter and waved his hand to dismiss the butler. Once the other man had gone, Melbourne went over to the wrought iron bench among his orchids. He sank down and sighed as he read Victoria's distinctive script upon the outside of the envelope.

_Lord Melbourne, Brocket Hall._

He broke the Royal seal on the back of the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. His chest pulled at the appearance of so much of Victoria's handwriting. She had put pen to paper for him, and he found himself wanting her again. The night before, he'd been in bed with a cold sweat thinking about her. He'd come to Brocket Hall after things had settled down in Parliament enough for him to take a few days to himself, thinking that a little space between himself and the queen was warranted. Now he studied her letter, every word making his heart race just a little more.

_My Dear Lord M,_

_I know why you have run off to your flowers. I am still not sorry. I do miss you terribly._

_I write, however, to inform you of Prince Albert's situation. Of course, this has been kept exceptionally quiet to protect him. However, as my Prime Minister, I feel you need to know precisely what is going on with the husband of the sovereign._

_Albert has consumption. He is coughing blood, is so fatigued he can not rise from bed, and has chills and sweats. The doctor confirmed the diagnosis, which he had suspected two days ago, this morning after consulting with two other physicians._

_And so it is… Albert is severely unwell. I wanted to visit him in his rooms to express my love for him, but they would not allow it. He is catching, they say, and I, as the Queen, must not see him. In fact, they are sending Albert away. He must go to Windsor, to be attended to by physicians and a few servants. I am not able to say goodbye._

_My mother says the primary issue at hand is my own health, as I am the reigning monarch and have not yet borne an heir. She says that Albert was a sickly boy as a child. It seems strange to me how quickly the tide has shifted from the importance of me marrying Albert to keeping him at a distance for my own well-being._

_They are taking him to Windsor today. I shall wave from the palace steps, but they will not allow me any nearer to him. I do pity him, but you know my heart, Lord M. I must be wicked. I must be a terrible woman, to feel as I do about this entire situation._

_Write to me. Tell me that I am not awful. Better - come back to Buckingham Palace. Your queen needs her Prime Minister in this time of tumult._

_Very sincerely,_

_Victoria R._

Melbourne folded the letter up, shutting his eyes and murmuring a little prayer for Prince Albert. Then he opened his eyes and glanced around his greenhouse. Dare he go dashing back to Buckingham Palace after having kissed Victoria?

Dare he not?

* * *

"Your Majesty… the Prime Minister."

Victoria looked up from the divan upon which she'd been sitting and staring into a fire. She slowly stood, smoothing her emerald green skirts. In walked Melbourne, who bowed his head the moment he saw Victoria. He stalked to her with long, confident strides and then descended to a knee. She held out her hand, and when he took her fingers in his, she shivered. He kissed her knuckles, and Victoria's stomach clenched. He released her and stood, seeming quite solemn as he met Victoria's eyes. He waited for her to speak, as per protocol, but she kept him waiting. She just gazed up into his pale eyes and searched.

"I ought to feel very aggrieved. My husband has consumption."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Melbourne said softly. "Your husband is quite ill. The entire country will be praying for him. I'll need to draft something to read in Parliament."

"Why do I not fear for him as much as I ought to?" Victoria asked. Melbourne touched his forehead and whispered,

"Ma'am, I think you are operating on emotion from something that should never have happened."

"You kissing me, you mean," Victoria said, and Melbourne turned around to look about the room, as though he were afraid someone was listening. Victoria continued, "If I loved him as deeply as I thought I did, perhaps I would be wracked with grief right now. Perhaps I would be sitting here sobbing, or spending all my time in the chapel praying."

Melbourne said nothing. Victoria sighed.

"You're going to read something for him in Parliament?"

"Of course, Ma'am," Melbourne said. "In fact, I should go work on that right now and take care of the matter straight away. The sooner the Prime Minister appears sincerely concerned about Prince Albert, the better."

"So you're leaving?" Victoria asked anxiously, "so soon after coming here?"

"Ma'am," Melbourne pronounced, "if ever there was a more inappropriate time for you and I to be alone together… when they've just taken His Royal Highness to Windsor for quarantine. I must go draft a statement for the House of Lords. I wish you well. I will be praying for him."

"Yes. As will I," Victoria said softly. Then she raised her eyes to him again and whispered, "He'll be all right. Won't he?"

Melbourne hesitated. He shrugged and admitted, "None of us could possibly know. We can only hope. I sincerely hope for his… that he might…"

He trailed off, and Victoria stepped closer to him. She reached up and brushed her fingers along Lord Melbourne's jaw. His eyes went wide, but she kept touching him as she whispered,

"Don't abandon me, Lord M."

He covered her hand with his and pressed her palm to his cheek. He shut his eyes.

"No, Ma'am. Never."

"Go write what you must," Victoria murmured. "I shall see you soon."

She lowered her hand, and he whispered,

"Soon."

Then he bowed respectfully and turned to go, leaving Victoria trembling where she stood.

* * *

Two weeks after Albert had gone to Windsor for treatment, Lord Melbourne received an update from the Prince's physician. His condition was stable, neither improving nor worsening, but the diagnosis of consumption was certain. It was critical that Queen Victoria keep her distance, lest the monarch come down with the disease herself.

On a Saturday weeks after Albert had been quarantined, Melbourne sat in his drawing room with two books open in front of him. One was on the lives of Church founders and one was on the history of Constantinople. He scribbled a few words about the Crusades down onto a paper in front of him and sighed. He longed to spend his time researching St Chrysostom. No, he thought then. He longed to spend his time with Victoria.

He had hardly seen her since Albert had been sent away. It had felt wrong, for a long while, to pine after her whilst her husband waned at Windsor. It had made him feel like a cur, wanting her the way he did, with Albert lying sick in bed.

Now Melbourne stared at his books and his writing, and he shut his eyes. He couldn't help desiring her. He was a terrible man, he thought, wanting his young and beautiful queen. But she wanted him, too. He knew that much. What harm had come of their kiss? Really, had any harm come of it? She was not in love with Albert, she had said. She wished for the days when she and Melbourne had been close. He wished for them, too.

"I do not require an introduction."

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

Melbourne whirled in his chair to see Queen Victoria herself striding into the drawing room in a gorgeous gown of salmon-coloured silk. She wore a white bonnet with lace hanging down her sides, and she had pearls on. She was so beautiful that Melbourne almost stayed seated in shock. But he flung himself to his feet and stood beside his desk.

"Your Majesty," he whispered, and she turned around and ordered the butler,

"Shut the door."

The butler bowed and pulled the door to the drawing room shut. Victoria pulled her bonnet off of her hair and walked over to a chair, setting it down. She plucked at her fingertips and yanked off her lace gloves, and Melbourne just blinked in wide-eyed surprise.

"Lord Melbourne," she said tightly, walking right up to him. "This is ridiculous."

He frowned. "I beg your pardon, Ma'am?"

"You have kept yourself away from Buckingham Palace for weeks," she complained, "and I have hardly seen you. I sent you a message earlier today asking you to come, and you did not."

"Forgive me, Ma'am; the message said to come for dinner. I had every intention of coming."

"I had thought you would come earlier," Victoria said. Melbourne raised his eyebrows.

"Earlier. I'm sorry, Ma'am. I misunderstood you, apparently."

"I had wanted to ride out," Victoria said. "It is unseasonably warm."

"Oh. Erm… I have been keeping my distance, Ma'am, because of His Royal Highness."

"I know," she said, more gently. She licked her lips. "They tell me he is stable, but that I mustn't see him, owing to the contagion. I do not know if I shall ever see him again. And now my mother says there shall be a crisis."

"A crisis?" Melbourne asked, and Victoria's cheeks went red.

"Because I am not with child, and Albert is ill."

"Ah." Melbourne's throat felt tight. "I see. There is concern in Parliament about the matter. Quiet murmurings that perhaps Her Majesty will be widowed - God forbid it - and will need to marry again quickly in order to produce a royal heir."

"These are my nightmares made manifest," Victoria said. She shut her eyes and shook her head. "If only he'd managed to put a child on me before he became so very ill."

"It is… erm… it would seem too late for that, Ma'am," Melbourne said. "Perhaps he will improve, and you…"

"You know he will not improve," Victoria said. Her face hardened. "He will weaken, and he may die. Even if he lives, and he has consumption, there will be no child. This illness of Albert's has created quite a problem as regards an heir. If he does perish, I shall be expected to find a new husband as soon as I can and immediately reproduce. Is there no mercy, Lord M?"

Melbourne had a fleeting idea then, a wild idea. He shook his head to rid himself of it, but it lingered in his consciousness.

He could put a child on Victoria and she could claim it had happened with Albert before his illness.

"I have a solution," Victoria whispered, her bottom lip trembling. "You could help me."

Melbourne shook his head harder than ever. "N-No, Ma'am. I know what you have in mind, but we could never… that could never…"

"And why not?" Victoria demanded sharply. "Do you wish for a crisis?"

"I do not wish scandal for you," Melbourne said gently, reaching for her hands. But she said in response,

"The timing is right. I knew nothing of the timing until Albert told me about it. But it would be a good time, Lord M, for you to resolve this terrible -"

"Your Majesty," Melbourne interrupted breathlessly. She shocked him then by rubbing at his bare forearms with her hands, making him shudder. He couldn't breathe all of a sudden; his chest was heavy and his stomach was quaking. She stared up at him and stroked his arms, and he whispered,

"I could never…"

"I am begging you," she murmured. "Lord M. Help me."

"If it didn't work," he said, "if it didn't happen within the next few weeks, it would be too late. No one would believe you. Then they would excoriate you, and -"

"Couldn't we just try?" Victoria asked softly. "Couldn't we at least give it an effort, so that I don't have to remarry? Who would I be forced to marry, Lord M?"

His heart ached at that. He could see it all, suddenly - the childless queen widowed, marrying someone new for whom she did not have real feelings, lying with that new Prince, birthing an heir because it was expected of her.

She could have _his_ child, he thought. She could do the duty the country demanded of her, but she could enjoy the process of conception. And she could lie and say that Albert had put the child on her before growing terribly ill. A matter of a few weeks would not create an outright scandal; maths with these things were often hazy.

"Your Majesty," he whispered, studying her lips. He needed to kiss those lips, he thought suddenly. He cupped her jaw in his hand and bent down, kissing her harder than he had meant to do. She gasped against him, her mouth opening. Very much on instinct, Melbourne let his tongue creep between her lips and drag over the roof of her mouth. Victoria hummed onto his mouth and tightened her fingers on his forearms. Her skin on his felt so good that Melbourne let his own hands move of their own accord. He planted one hand to the small of her back and dragged her closer, realising that he'd wanted to do precisely this for a very long time.

"Lord M," Victoria breathed when at last they pulled away. Melbourne shut his eyes and seethed through clenched teeth, his breath mingling with hers. She reached up with one hand and stroked at his jaw. "Please help me."

"You want me to put a child on you so that you can claim it's the Prince's offspring," Melbourne said, his disbelief thick. His eyes were still shut as Victoria told him,

"I want you to father the heir to the throne."

He winced at that, for it was so ludicrous that he could not believe his ears. He kissed her again, harder this time, and she collapsed against his body. He held her steady at her back as her arms snaked up around his shoulders. Then their mouths parted, and Melbourne's lips felt bruised and warm. He was hard between his legs now, but there was no helping that. Not when Victoria was wrapped up in his arms and talking to him about lying together.

"Lord M," she whispered, her breath hot on his lips, "I have come here today to ask this of you, and to suggest… that we might…"

"Yes," he murmured at last, "Yes, because if I think on it a moment longer, I will lose my only chance to… you know that I…"

"Well, then," Victoria said, pulling herself up and licking her lips, "Let us attend to the task at hand. I presume you've got a bedchamber here at Dover House?"

"I also have servants, Ma'am," Melbourne reminded her, "and they would most certainly notice you coming upstairs with me."

Victoria looked around the drawing room, seeming to realise that it would be no easy feat to couple properly in this room. She looked back at Melbourne with steely determination and said,

"This room will do fine. I shan't be able to fully undress."

He blinked. "I can't imagine… Your Majesty, I can't -"

"Yes, you can," she said. She put her hands to his chest and confessed, "I have wanted you since before my Coronation. Do you not want me?"

"I do, more than anything," he told her truthfully. "I merely fear for what this will do to you."

"If it does what it's meant to do, you will have saved me," Victoria informed him. Melbourne chewed his lip and glanced to his messy desk. He eyed the stately but small furniture. And then he finally laced his fingers through Victoria's and whispered,

"Come with me, Ma'am."

He led her towards the wall, thinking to himself that he'd gone completely insane, and so had she.

**Author's Note: Oh, dear. So they've got** _ **plans.**_ **And there's going to be sex-against-a-wall. Will they figure out a way to get comfortably naked together? Will their plan work? Will Albert get sicker (or die)? Hmm…**

**Thanks as always for reading. I am exceedingly grateful for feedback on this story.**


	5. Chapter 5

Skirts upon skirts. She had so many petticoats on, which was suddenly very obnoxious. Victoria had no idea how Melbourne intended on getting to the bottom of her skirts. She stood with her back to the wall and stared up at him, murmuring,

"I'm overdressed, Lord M."

"You are, a little, Ma'am," he replied with a mischievous smirk. He put his hands to her salmon-coloured skirts and began to tug upward, balling material in his fists and shoving the fabric toward Victoria's waist. He breathed deeply through his nose, lowered his eyes, and muttered,

"Tell me to stop this."

"Do _not_ stop this, Lord M," Victoria instructed him firmly. His eyes closed, but his hands kept pushing at her petticoats until everything was heaved up around her waist. His fingers went to her waist and shook there. He leaned forward and kissed Victoria with trembling lips, saying softly,

"Hold the skirts up, will you, Ma'am?"

She nodded, and then she gasped hard, because she watched his hand leave her waist and go between her legs. She parted them a little, and as Lord Melbourne's fingers wormed their way between the opening of her drawers, Victoria gulped. She let out a quivering breath and asked,

"Have you any notion of how badly I have wanted you, Lord M?"

He tipped his head, eyes still shut, and then nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. I've got some idea. I have… longed for you…"

"Please kiss me," Victoria begged. His lips pressed to hers then, and he held them against her mouth as his fingers pushed against her most sensitive spot. She urged his mouth open, and he gladly welcomed her tongue with a low grunt. Victoria clutched her skirts tightly and arched her back against the wall as Melbourne's fingers pulsed.

"More," she hummed onto his lips, and he nodded.

"More."

She felt herself flush wet in a way that had never happened before. There was something about his voice, something about the word _more_ that had stricken her with desire. Victoria huffed onto Melbourne's mouth and then felt his lips move. He used his nose to nudge aside one of her pendant braids, and she gasped when she felt his mouth on the skin beneath her ear. Her eyes fluttered shut, for he moved his tongue in tandem with his fingers, and it was _so much_.

His forefinger and middle finger pulled and pulsed on the nub between her thighs, and his tongue lathed from her neck up to her ear. Each stroke moved in harmony, and then she felt the fingers of his other hand go to the neckline of her salmon-coloured gown. His hand delved down beneath the gown's material and shoved its way into her corset. She smacked her head back against the wall and breathed tremulously. Now his fingers toyed with a trapped nipple, and his other hand massaged her womanhood, and his mouth suckled at her neck.

Victoria wanted to grasp him. She wanted to hold onto his arms, to touch his face. But her hands were busy holding her skirts up at her waist. She moaned helplessly, and then Lord M's lips were beside her ear shushing her gently.

"Servants, Ma'am," he whispered, and Victoria gulped. She struggled mightily to stay quiet against the immense pleasure she was feeling. How could she possibly keep from making sounds when his hands were on her like they were right now?

Suddenly she realised something. This was Lord M. This was _her_ Lord M. She'd wanted him for ages. But he'd been forbidden to her; she hadn't been allowed to have him. Now he had one hand shoved into her corset, the other hand burrowed in her drawers, his mouth latched to her neck. His fingers pushed harder, twisting into her body, his thumb rubbing circles on her nub. Victoria seethed through clenched teeth and squeezed her skirts. Lord M dragged a finger over her peaked nipple beneath her corset, and he whispered into her ear,

"I want this to feel good for you, Ma'am."

" _Mmph._ Lord M. It feels…"

She trailed off and moved her head until his mouth met hers. She kissed him hard, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and pulling at his bottom lip. She had never experienced anything like this. She wanted to tell him that Albert had never caressed her quite like this, that she'd never felt the coil of pleasure in her lower abdomen that she felt now. She wanted to kiss his neck the way she had been kissed. Instead she felt everything grow so tight, like a violin string about to snap, that she couldn't breathe. She moaned softly into the kiss, almost releasing her skirts as her knees wobbled and her chest constricted.

"Lord M!" she whispered frantically onto his lips.

"Yes," he mumbled. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh!"

She lost herself then. She was clenching, her body contracting around his fingers, quivering against his thumb. Her chest was heaving as he touched her. Her breath shook like mad. And everything exploded like cannon fire, a burst of satisfaction racing through Victoria's veins. Her cheeks went fiery hot, and it was all she could do to murmur against Melbourne's mouth,

"That is the most singularly wondrous thing I have ever felt."

"You deserve so much more than… you know, against a wall," Melbourne complained. As he slowly pulled his hands from Victoria and took a step back, he met her eyes and stared at her with a jade-coloured gaze.

"Tell me, Your Majesty, that you want what comes next."

She nodded, her determinations solidifying with every passing moment. "I want what comes next, Lord M."

He nodded. His lips parted and trembled a little, and he whispered hoarsely,

"So do I, Ma'am."

His fingers went to his breeches, and Victoria's gaze locked onto the sight of his fingers unbuttoning them. His hand reached into the breeches and yanked out his shirt, and then…

Then came his cock.

Victoria let out a soft little noise as she watched Melbourne adjust his breeches and grip his manhood. He was long, thick, and visibly throbbing, and Victoria thought to herself that his organ was significantly more impressive than Albert's was. Albert's member was much smaller, and had not seemed to possess the ache or urgency that Melbourne's did. Victoria raised her eyebrows and said softly,

"Oh, how I want you, Lord M."

"Your Majesty," he murmured, walking towards her again. He held his cock in one hand and curled his other fingers beneath Victoria's thigh. His eyes closed slowly, and he said,

"Wrap your leg about my waist, Ma'am."

She did as he commanded, wishing - not for the first time - that she was not so very small. This would be more difficult, she thought, given that she was so incredibly short and he was much taller. Suddenly she found herself with her leg curled around him, though, and she watched as Melbourne bent his knees and leaned forward. He seemed to have some idea of what to do with the height difference; despite his age, he would bend for her.

He lined his cock up with Victoria's body, and then all of a sudden his hands flew to her waist. She gasped as he heaved her upward and seethed,

"Other leg around me."

Victoria did as he bade her, and then her hands left her skirts and wrapped tightly around his shoulders. She held onto him for purchase, gripping him with her arms and legs like she would drown if she let go.

Then she felt it - the thrust, the entrance. She threw her head back as Melbourne filled her, and then he smashed her body back against the wall. She whispered desperately,

"Kiss me. Please."

He tipped his head and leaned down a little, crushing her mouth in the most intense kiss they'd yet shared. His hips rocked against her. Grinding, pushing, pulling… he kept mashing her onto the wall with every thrust, and Victoria felt like things were going tight and hot again. She compressed her arms around his shoulders and locked her ankles together at the small of his back.

"Lord M," she said when he broke for air, "Put a child on me, Lord M. Lord M, Lord… _William._ "

He stopped thrusting then, his pale eyes flashing as his mouth dropped open. She watched his eyes well heavily in an instant, and he pushed a few more times into her as his fingers cinched on her waist.

"William," she whispered again, and he nodded. He collapsed forward then, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck and grunting madly. He thrust hard, five or six more times, and then he mumbled desperately,

"Beautiful Majesty…"

"Say it," she hissed, and then Melbourne bucked his hips and pushed himself flush against Victoria's body. "Say it," she insisted again. "Say my name."

But he just twitched inside of her and huffed a bit loudly with his lips beside her ear. She knew then that he was finishing, that he was spilling his seed inside of her, and she felt tears erupt at once. She held Melbourne's face in her hands as he slowly lowered her to the ground, and then her wrinkled skirts fell down about her. She felt fluids leaking out of her body when he pulled out, felt his seed streaking down the inside of her thigh. She shut her eyes and tipped her head back against the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wondered distantly if this had done it, if this had put the child she could claim as Albert's into her womb. Then she felt his lips on her tears, felt him kiss them away, and he asked,

"Do you regret it, Ma'am?"

"Not even a little bit," she said breathlessly. She just stood there with her eyes shut for a long moment, savouring the way Melbourne had taken her, and when she opened her eyes, he'd put himself to rights. His jaw looked tight and his eyes seemed almost sad as he whispered,

"I am sorry… if I have…"

"You did as I asked of you," Victoria reminded him. "Are you truly sorry?"

He looked away and shook his head. "No, not really. I don't suppose I've ever felt anything quite as wondrous as that."

"I must go, mustn't I?" Victoria asked then. "I can't stay. Because it's already been so much, hasn't it?"

"It has," Melbourne said. He walked over to the chair where she'd set her accessories, and he held her bonnet and gloves. She strode up to him, staring into his light eyes as he brought the bonnet onto her head. He smirked just a little and informed her,

"I have managed to quite muss your hair, Ma'am. I suspect your dressers will notice."

"No, it was the bonnet," Victoria protested. "It must have loose… erm…"  
They both laughed softly then, and Melbourne reached to take her hand in his. He slid her lace glove onto her fingers and tugged until it was all the way on. For some reason, it was intensely erotic to have him put her bonnet and gloves on her, Victoria thought. To have him put her back together after plundering her against a wall…

"Please say my name," she whispered, and he met her eyes and seemed sorrowful. His throat bobbed beneath his cravat.

"You know I can't do that, Ma'am."

"We just… you and I were _together_ , just now," she reminded him, "and I should like to hear you call me by my name."

He shut his eyes and then reached to cup her jaw. He leaned down and kissed her cheek as he whispered,

"Victoria."

"William," she choked out, and when he pulled back, he shook his head.

"Thank you for coming over today, Your Majesty. Dover House is always graced when you are here."

She nodded, swiping at the tears that were forming in her eyes. "Thank _you_ , Lord M."

"I pray that His Royal Highness improves," Melbourne said stoutly, and Victoria nodded vigorously.

"Yes. Of course. And I thank you again, Lord M, for saving me, as you have so often done."

"Well," he said, tipping his head, "I did… what I could. Toward that particular cause. But we shall have to pray about that, too."

"Then it's to the chapel with me," Victoria said, "for many reasons."

Melbourne gnawed his lip. "May I kiss you goodbye, Ma'am?"

"I should be desolate if you did not," she replied. He took her face in both his hands and bent down, pressing his lips to hers. He did it again, and then again, and finally he touched his forehead to hers and whispered,

"It would be wise, perhaps, to attempt this act several times in the next week or so. There is a sense of urgency about this."

"Come to Buckingham Palace tomorrow morning," Victoria suggested. "I have an idea."

"An idea, Ma'am?" Melbourne licked his lips and tipped his head. "What is your idea?"

"I have the power to banish everyone from my quarters," she said. "If you insist that there is a very important matter for the sovereign and her Prime Minister to discuss, we might make it into the bedchamber."

He smiled a little and scratched at his eyebrow. "I have always admired your boldness and determination, Ma'am. But if we are caught…"

"If we do not try, or if this does not work, and Albert dies, I shall have to marry someone else," Victoria reminded him. "Come to Buckingham Palace tomorrow morning."

He swallowed hard and asked, "Shall I still come for dinner tonight?"

"Yes," she said. "Come to dinner. I find I wish to have you near me a good deal during this time of unpredictability."

He curled up the sides of his mouth, bowing his head as he said, "As you command, Ma'am."

**Author's Note: Whew! So they did that. And they're going to do it again. But first, Lord M will be at dinner… what could possibly go wrong?**

**Thank you so much for reading… and a** _ **massive**_ **thank you for reviewing!**


	6. Chapter 6

"Her Majesty the Queen."

Melbourne rose to his feet along with everyone else at the dinner table. The double doors were flung open, and in walked Victoria, wearing a beautiful gown of crimson taffeta. She nodded as her chair was pulled out, and as she sank down, her skirts billowed about her. She folded her hands on the table's edge and bowed her head, saying sincerely,

"May the Lord make us truly grateful for the food before us. May He keep Prince Albert safe at Windsor. Amen."

"Amen," incanted everyone else. Melbourne watched then as servants came into the room in crisp uniforms, placing bowls of asparagus soup before each diner. Everyone waited in silent stillness until Victoria picked up her spoon and took a bite. Then they all tucked in, and Victoria said gently to Melbourne,

"Good evening, Lord M."

"Good evening, Your Majesty." He met her eyes and just stared for a moment. She was so very beautiful, he thought. He wanted nothing more than to hold her face in his hands and kiss her right now, like he'd done earlier.

"I find I have worked up quite an appetite today," Victoria pronounced, and Melbourne smirked a little.

"Then you must eat to your heart's content."

"To my heart's content," she repeated, a glow coming over her face. She gazed right at Melbourne, and he knew what she was thinking. Albert had scolded her for eating too much. He had told her she would become fat, and therefore undesirable, and Victoria had moderated herself. She'd denied herself the pleasure of food because Albert had told her that she would get fat and ugly. Now she spooned soup into her mouth with gusto, and Melbourne found himself smiling a little. The next course was fried fish, and then there was roast chicken with potatoes. Victoria ate all of it as though she were starving, and meanwhile her ladies chatted quietly down the table.

"Drina," said a voice sharply, "I had thought you had given up your childish overeating."

Melbourne paused with his glass of wine in his hand and looked to where the Duchess of Kent was somewhat glaring at her daughter. Victoria swallowed her bite of chicken and propped her knife and fork on the table.

"I am hungry, Mama, and therefore I shall eat. I will not be told what I am allowed to consume."

"It is a disappointment," The Duchess mewled. "That is all."

"Well, by all means, do be disappointed," Victoria said quietly. A heavy silence came over the table then, as everyone seemed to realise the queen and her mother had something to discuss in private. And this was not private.

"A message, Your Majesty."

A page walked into the dining room and approached the head of the table. Victoria's lips fell open as the page held out a silver platter with a folded letter upon it. Victoria plucked the letter off the tray and then read it, and after a moment, she murmured to the page,

"I shall write back momentarily."

"Yes, Ma'am." The page bowed and backed away from Victoria, who cleared her throat and said,

"If you will all excuse me, I have received a message from Windsor which commands my immediate attention. You have my permission to finish dessert in my absence."

She rose, and so did everyone else. Melbourne scowled as he stood and watched Victoria leave. He felt sick to his stomach, knowing that she had received some sort of message about Albert. What had they done, Melbourne wondered? Just what had he done to Victoria against the wall at Dover House?

He had tried to put an heir upon the monarch. He had tried to give her the ability to claim a child as Albert's so that, if the prince died, the queen would not be forced into a loveless union just for procreation. But it had been so much more than that. They'd called one another by their names. They'd affectionately touched one another's faces and had felt ecstasy with each other. It had been so much, and now she was fleeing the room with a message about her husband in her hand.

"Pardon me," Melbourne said to the rest of the table. He needed to follow her, he thought. He bowed to the others and said, "As Prime Minister, I think I ought to… excuse me."

He'd stumbled, he knew, but he set his napkin down just the same and stalked to the doorway of the dining room. He needed to follow her and find out what was going on.

"Your Majesty," he called, once he was out in the corridor. Victoria whirled around, her scarlet skirts swishing, and she appeared to be crying.

"Lord M," she said tightly, and as he approached her, she held out the letter in her hands. He took it from her and read.

_The condition of His Royal Highness has deteriorated rapidly. We write to inform Her Majesty of the Prince's grave condition._

His eyes scanned down the rest of the note, in which the physicians told Victoria that Albert's cough had worsened considerably and that he was now mad with fever.

"He will die," Victoria whispered frantically. "He's going to leave me."

"He… he may…" Melbourne pinched his lips into a tight line and said at last, "God save His Royal Highness."

* * *

Victoria woke knowing that her plans to bring Melbourne into her chambers today were not going to work. She sat at her dressing table as Skerrett braided her hair, and she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Albert was dying. She needed to have a child put on her, and quickly, or else the country would demand a new marriage as soon as Albert was gone.

"Miss Skerrett," she said, and the servant bowed her head in the mirror's reflection.

"Ma'am?"

"Albert, before he became quite ill, found out that I had gone to Dover House on my own. I wonder how he knew that."

Skerrett's face seemed alarmed then, as if she were being accused of something. Victoria clarified,

"I mean to say, I wonder how it is that he came to find out about a solitary, incognito voyage to visit the Prime Minister. Have you any idea how Albert might have found that out? I do not at all mean to accuse."

"Well, Your Majesty," said Skerrett, lowering her eyes, "there's people who will gladly give up what they see for a price, or at a command."

"For a price, or at a command." Victoria turned a little as Skerrett pushed the final pins into her hair. "Would these same people keep secrets, if paid or ordered?"

"Secrets are more difficult, I should think," Skerrett said, "but I hope Your Majesty knows that I am loyal to you, and if there is ever anything you should need to… you know…"

"Thank you, Miss Skerrett," Victoria nodded. "No jewels today. Not with Albert as ill as he is."

"Of course, Ma'am." Skerrett stepped back, and Victoria rose from her chair. She walked out through her rooms and into the grand drawing room where her desk was. She noticed her box was already on the desk, and when she opened it, she found page after page of letters sending their concern and prayer for Prince Albert. Victoria chewed her lip and wondered if she ought not just go to Windsor. How contagious could Albert possibly be?

The door opened then, but before the page could announce her, Victoria's mother came blustering into the room.

"Drina," said the Duchess of Kent, striding into the space. Victoria stiffened, still stung from the way her mother had scolded her at dinner the night before. Now her mother looked distraught, and she said,

"Drina, they have not told you yet."

"Told me what?" Victoria frowned. "What do you know that I do not?"

"He is… he is _gone_ , Victoria." The Duchess broke into wild tears then. "Your beloved Albert has died."

"What?" Victoria flew to her feet and then immediately sat down again in shock. "What do you _mean_ , he has died? So very quickly?"

"They suppose he had the disease for a long time before he became so ill," said the Duchess of Kent through her tears. "He choked on his own blood; his lungs failed him early this morning at Windsor. _Das ist so eine Tragödie. Was für ein beklagenswerter Verlust des schönen Lebens. Ich bin mit gebrochenem Herzen für dich, meine kleine Tochter._ "

"English, Mama," Victoria scolded, somehow having the presence of mind in all of this to know that German ought not be spoken at the English court. She blinked a few times and realised she should cry. She should feel distraught. Instead she felt afraid. Indeed, the Duchess took a few steps towards Victoria's desk and said cautiously,

"You are not with child, are you?"

"It is… too early to tell," Victoria said, somewhat truthfully. She blinked again, willing herself to cry. Finally her eyes seared, as she thought of happier times with Albert. She thought of him charming her when they rode out, of him kissing her in the trees. And she finally cried a little, swiping at her tears and mumbling,

"I need Lord M."

"Lord Melbourne's presence is not the slightest bit appropriate right now," hissed the Duchess of Kent, but Victoria sniffed and said,

"The husband of the monarch has died. I need my Prime Minister."

The Duchess' face hardened. She rubbed at her own tears and said, "I shall see to it that they send for him, since it is a matter of politics."

"Thank you for telling me, Mama." Victoria spat the words. She would have much preferred to have learnt about this from -

"The Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne."

The door opened, and the page outside called out to announce Melbourne, who came rushing into the room. He froze when he saw the Duchess of Kent, and he licked his lips, bowing respectfully.

"Lord M." Victoria choked out his name, feeling quite emotional at the sight of him. He had mud on his boots; he'd ridden here quickly from Dover House, it seemed.

"Your Majesty," he said to Victoria, "my most heartfelt condolences on this unimaginable loss."

"You were trying to get here to tell her yourself," said the Duchess in an accusatory voice. Melbourne scowled.

"It is not a contest, I do not think, to deliver the news of a young man's death to his loving wife."

"I shall leave you two to discuss the politics of this," said the Duchess of Kent. She walked over to Victoria and planted a kiss on either cheek. She stared down at the queen and said softly, "My beautiful daughter, left utterly bereft. I know this pain. I pity you terribly. I shall pray for you both - for you and for Albert."

"Thank you, Mama," Victoria whispered. Her mother turned and brushed past Melbourne on her way out of the room. The door shut, and Melbourne stood staring at Victoria. She did not rise, nor give him her hand. Instead she murmured,

"Let's sit together."

"Sit together," Melbourne repeated, and Victoria nodded. She stood, and she watched Melbourne tighten up. His hands clenched before him, and he said, "I should not have done to you what I did."

"For all you know, nothing came of it," Victoria said, walking past him to the divan. She sank down and stared into the unlit fireplace and said in a droll voice, "He'll barely be cold before they're crying out for me to marry again."

"On the contrary, Ma'am," Melbourne said, and he said beside her on the divan. He met her eyes and told her, "They will give you time to grieve him, and you are so young. There will be space, in all of this, for the country to mourn His Royal Highness before any demands are made of you."

"But those demands will eventually be made."

"Victoria," whispered Melbourne, "I can not continue on with you now. Your husband is dead."

"What if I am already with your child?" Victoria demanded. "What if you put a child on me up against a wall in Dover House?"

Melbourne tipped his head, his eyes rimming red. "Then that child will be the son or daughter of Prince Albert."

"But you will never be with me again?" Victoria reached for his hand, which he pulled away.

"Now is certainly not the time to… Victoria, you know that I…" He trailed off then, staring into her eyes with a mournful gaze. He reached to cup her jaw in his palm, and he whispered, "You know that I love you."

Her breath hitched then, and she began to cry in earnest. She burrowed her fists into her eyes and shook her head. She thought of Brocket Hall, when he'd cracked her heart into a thousand pieces by so thoroughly rejecting her.

"No, William; I did not know that."

"Well, now you know, Ma'am," he said quietly. "We sinned terribly once, and your husband is with God, and I am in love with you."

Victoria heaved as she began to sob. She was wracked with confusion. She'd only known Albert for a brief time, but it had been long enough to convince herself that she loved him. And now he was gone. There would be a funeral, and mourning, and Victoria would be expected to be horrifically aggrieved about the loss of Albert.

But then there was Lord M. _Her_ Lord M, who apparently loved her. He loved her.

_You know that I love you._

She lowered her fists and bared her reddened, streaked eyes to him. He appeared on the verge of tears himself, and he said,

"I grieve with you, Victoria."

"I love you," she whispered. He shut his eyes and sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. Then he murmured,

"I mourn him with you. I am here as a shoulder to cry upon, as a rock of stability for you, but I can never again do anything like -"

"But we are in love, you and I," Victoria confirmed. "So when they make me marry again, it must be you, mustn't it?"

"No." He looked right at her and shook his head. "No, it could never be me. I am no prince."

"William, save me," she said desperately. "Come here late tonight. To this room."

"On the day your husband has died?" hissed Melbourne. He shook his head wildly. "I could never…"

"I _need_ you to give me an heir to the throne," Victoria said in a shaking voice. But Melbourne released her hand and said,

"I tried. One time. If it is meant to be, then once will be enough. And I shall always treasure that one time."

"I am afraid," Victoria admitted, "of what will become of me. Of us."

"Us," Melbourne scoffed. "Ma'am, there is no us. There could never be an us, not with me so very lowly and you the monarch of this nation."

"But I am in love with you, and you are in love with me," Victoria said, tipping her head.

"The most pressing matter at hand, Ma'am, is the loss of Prince Albert," said Melbourne. "I must go to the House of Lords at once to discuss the issue, and you must meet with the Archbishop to make funeral arrangements."

"Yes, of course." Victoria lowered her eyes. "I'm scarcely even thinking of Albert in all of this. How selfish and childish of me."

"You are afraid, as you yourself said," Melbourne sighed. He stroked at her jaw and leaned forward, kissing her lips carefully. "Know that I shall adore you through all of what is to come. Now, I really must go."

"Of course." Victoria rose, and Melbourne pushed himself up to stand.

"I really am so very sorry, Your Majesty," he said sincerely, and Victoria felt fresh tears well as she nodded and said,

"Thank you, Lord M."

**Author's Note: Hm. Now there's a real pickle. Did Victoria conceive during the wall-sex? If she didn't, how long until she's pressured to marry again? What will Albert's funeral and all the mourning look like?** _**Ominous music.** _

**Thank you so very, very much for reviewing.**


	7. Chapter 7

Lord Melbourne watched as the casket of Prince Albert was processed up the centre aisle of St George's Chapel at Windsor. He glanced about to see all the most high-ranking politicians and aristocracy lining the chapel, and he sighed. The organ was playing a mournful tune as the procession made its way forward, and everyone stood in silence. In accordance with wishes Albert had made manifest around the time of his wedding, his funeral was as plain and private as possible for the husband of the monarch. There would be no lying in state. His remains would stay here at Windsor.

From early this morning, the great bell of Windsor Castle had chimed out periodically, a _clang_ ringing out that sent shivers down the spines of those who heard it. _Death_ , it chimed, and then a while later, _death_ again. Parish churches at Clewer and St John's held services in honour of the fallen prince early in the morning.

The procession was devoid of the grand pomposity that might have been expected for the husband of the monarch. The guests who had been invited to come and mourn arrived by train from Paddington, where carriages brought them to Windsor Castle. The town around the Castle had completely shut down for the funeral. Every shop had shut and every street was deserted. Only inside this Chapel Royal was there the lonely sound of the organ, and nothing more. On top of it all, it was raining.

Throughout the funeral, Melbourne kept his eyes on Victoria. She was regal in her mourning, despite her small size. She wore black silk and a black veil, and she stood as though she were a foot taller than she really was. Victoria was every inch a queen today.

The country, Melbourne found out later, mourned only as sincerely as it could given that it had barely known the new prince. Albert had been German, and his marriage to Victoria had been brief. It was only right and appropriate to show mourning, but England bore no real sentiment towards Albert of Saxe-Coburg. His death meant only one thing - no heir for the Queen. And, so, Melbourne thought perhaps Victoria had been right that there would be terrible pressure for her to move on quickly. Melbourne kept his distance from Victoria since the funeral. It was inappropriate, he'd thought, to be too near to her during this time of grief.

He had stayed at Windsor after the funeral, for that was where Victoria wanted him. He had his own quarters in the castle, and he stayed in them except for dinner, when he joined the sombre party who ate in quiet contemplation.

On the Wednesday after Albert was buried, Melbourne sat in an armchair in his drawing room, reading a book about tropical flowers. He studied the botanist's sketch of heliconias, dusting his fingertips over the ink.

_Heliconia plants are almost exclusively pollinated by hummingbirds. However, in some areas, bat pollination has been observed. The heliconia pollinated by the bat flowers at night, with nocturnal pollination._

There was knocking on the door of the drawing room, and Melbourne frowned deeply. He set down his open book on the table beside his armchair and rose, walking towards the door. He opened it, and then his mouth fell open. There she was - Victoria - standing before him in a black taffeta gown.

"Good morning, Lord M," said Victoria quietly. He nodded and bowed, almost forgetting himself.

"Good morning, Your Majesty."

"May I come in, please?" Victoria asked, raising her brows. Melbourne stepped aside and cleared his throat.

"Yes, Ma'am. Of course. I… erm… I was just reading."

"Were you? What were you reading about?" Victoria asked primly. Melbourne walked over to the table beside his armchair and picked up the book, handing it to Victoria with a little smirk.

"Tropical flowers," Victoria smiled. She shut her eyes and whispered, "How I long to see your flowers at Brocket Hall."

His stomach ached at that, to hear her speak to him like that. She had a black onyx comb tucked into her hair, which had been pulled back into an uncharacteristic low chignon. She stared at the pages of Melbourne's book and read aloud,

" _The water-filled floral bracts of heliconias provide shelter for myriad insects. Beetles, including those of the Chrys.. Chryso…"_

She went red-cheeked and gulped, and Melbourne said gently,

" _Chrysomelidae._ Leaf beetles, Ma'am. So many of them have served as pests for my beautiful plants." He took the book from her and shut it, setting it down. He stared down at her and asked plainly, "Why have you come here, to my private quarters, Victoria?"

"Because," she whispered, "We are very nearly out of time."

"It would be too late now, Ma'am," Melbourne informed her. He shook his head vigorously. "If I put a child on you today, precisely no one would believe you that it was Albert's. You would already need to… it would need to have happened already."

"Oh." Victoria pinched her lips. "I was hoping to try one more time."

Melbourne smiled just a little and whispered, "That would be quite a thing, wouldn't it? Alas."

"I wish you would at least allow me to…" Victoria trailed off, her eyes drifting downward. She stared at her hands and murmured, "How I long for you, William."

"You are in mourning," he reminded the both of them, but she said back,

"I did not love him. I do love you."

"Why don't you tell me what you would do, Ma'am, if we had free reign over ourselves?" Melbourne asked. "It can be fun to just pretend."

She stared up at him, wide-eyed, and then said seriously, "You would have arrived at Buckingham Palace, having ridden quickly on horseback to come to me."

He tingled all of a sudden, realising they were going to make-believe right here in his drawing room. His throat felt tight as he moved closer to Victoria and said,

"I'd have muddy boots; I would have come dashing upstairs to you as quickly as I could."

"You would smell of horses and I wouldn't care," Victoria hummed. She planted her hands on Melbourne's chest and fingered the buttons of his shirt. She stared at his sternum and murmured, "It would be nighttime, and I would already be in my nightgown. You would follow me into my bedchamber."

"And what would I do to you in there, Ma'am?" Melbourne asked. He threaded a hand around Victoria and pressed his palm to the small of her back. He rubbed up and down a few times. She kept staring straight ahead as she blinked and said,

"You would undress. You'd take off your coat, and then your cravat. Your waistcoat, your shirt, your muddy boots and your breeches. It would all come off, one piece at a time, and I'd watch you remove it all."

"How would that make you feel, Victoria?" asked Melbourne, leaning down and brushing his lips against her forehead. "How would it make you feel to see me naked?"

"It would make me feel like taking off my nightgown," she informed him. "I'd climb up onto my bed, and you would follow me. And then you would take me."

"How would I take you, Victoria?" Melbourne asked, his lips grazing her forehead. "Would I sway gently above you, kissing your lips as I enter you? Or would I be rough from behind whilst you kneel? Would we tangle up like vines on our sides, or would we -"

Victoria moaned softly and complained,

"Lord M, I am quite activated by all this talk." She raised her eyes to him and whispered helplessly, "I'm soaked between my legs, thinking about all of this."

Melbourne gulped hard and whispered, "I confess myself aroused, Victoria."

"I need you," she said desperately. "I need you _now._ "

Suddenly he had no idea what was happening. Melbourne was dragging Victoria by her waist, leading her to the armchair where he'd been reading earlier. He was sitting and pulling her down atop him, and she was yanking up her skirts around her waist. Her hands delved between them and moved quickly to unbutton his breeches, and Melbourne gasped when he felt his cock pulled out by her little hands. He was achingly hard, worked up by their talk.

She crashed forward, her mouth pressing hard against his, and when he opened his lips, she pushed her tongue in. His hands worked with hers to line everything up, and before Melbourne could stop her, she was sinking down onto him. He hissed; she was so warm and so tight, and enveloping embrace around his manhood. She was right about being soaked, too, and that made him all the more aroused.

"Victoria," he croaked, tipping his head back. Then he gasped, because she latched her mouth onto his neck and kissed him hard, so hard that a distant part of his mind worried there would be marks. But he wanted more; he wanted her to mark him up. He could hide it with a cravat, he thought. So he whispered frantically, "More of that."

She moaned wantonly, her hands grasping his biceps as his own fingers sank into her backside and urged her to pump herself up and down atop him. She pulled the skin of his neck between her teeth and suckled, and Melbourne felt a fresh surge of blood in his cock. He stiffened so badly that he knew he was on the verge of finishing, and he mumbled,

"No, we mustn't…"

"It isn't too late," she insisted into his ear, nibbling on the lobe before ravishing his neck again. Suddenly her mouth went still, and her hips slowed, and Melbourne felt contractions around his member. She panted onto his neck, and her grip tightened on his biceps, and she said in a helpless sort of wisp,

"Oh, it feels so good."

"Please…" Melbourne begged her, using his hands on the backside of her drawers to cycle her hips forward and down, forward and down. She kept going, and then he lost himself. He came so quickly after her that she was still recovering from her own peak as Melbourne reached his. He felt his seed shoot up into her body, felt everything tight and hot as his ears rang and he saw spots. He moved his hands to Victoria's back and perceived the heaving breaths she was taking. He shut his eyes and brought the fingers of his left hand to his forehead.

"Oh, what have I done?"

Victoria pulled back as he slid out of her, and he thought that his breeches would be a disaster after this. She slowly climbed off of him and put her skirts to rights, and as Melbourne stood, he noticed their fluids mixed all over the fabric of his breeches. He hurried, rather embarrassed, to tuck himself away and button himself up, but there was no hiding the mess. He'd have to change as soon as she left, he thought. And she should leave immediately. His face felt hot as he looked at her, but then he felt his own features soften as she gazed at him like he was the most wonderful person on Earth.

"You know that I love you, William," she said, echoing his own words to her. He shut his eyes and nodded.

"Sometimes it physically hurts, Victoria. The way I love you."

She brushed her knuckles over his jaw and brought his face down to hers. They kissed, just once, and she declared,

"I don't want to hurt you."

He just sighed and stood upright, telling her,

"It will have been too late."

"Perhaps it worked the first time," Victoria shrugged, "and this will have just been a silly dalliance."

"A silly dalliance three days after your husband's funeral," Melbourne said tightly. Victoria narrowed her eyes at him and demanded,

"Lord Melbourne, are you dictating the terms of mourning to your monarch?"

"No, Ma'am," he said softly. "I could never dictate anything to you."

She huffed. "I did not love him. I thought I did, but I was quite wrong about that. It was you I loved all the while."

"I think," he said gently, "that I ought to go change clothes. And perhaps I shall see you at dinner."

"Yes," Victoria agreed. She picked up the book on tropical flowers and studied the cover for a moment. She set it back down and tipped her head. "I am sorry to have interrupted your reading."

"You'll never have to be sorry," he said. "Not to me."

"I shall leave you," she said, "but only with the promise that I shall see you again tonight, and tomorrow morning, and every day thereafter."

"Every day." Melbourne smirked. "Wouldn't that be grand?"  
"It _will_ be grand," Victoria said stoutly, "because it is what I want."

"Well," Melbourne said with a little smile, "You must always have what you want. Until dinner, then, Ma'am."

He kissed her once more, gently, and she turned to go.

* * *

At dinner four days later, Melbourne stood as Victoria took her seat. He sank down into her chair along with her, and as she led the dinner party in a prayer of remembrance for Albert, he folded his hands on the table. Then she said to those who had gathered,

"I confess my stomach is a bit unstable tonight. Kindly do not wait for me to eat."

He frowned at the break in protocol, and he watched Harriet Sutherland give Emma Portman a grave look. Clam stew was brought out, and Victoria just stared at it. She looked unwell, Melbourne thought; she looked queasy. She finally took one bite and then set her spoon down. He cleared his throat and asked gently,

"Have you taken ill, Your Majesty?"

She stared at him, then glanced down the table to be certain that the others were engaged in conversation before she returned her eyes to Melbourne. A little smile crossed her lips, and Melbourne's heart fluttered. He whispered in a low voice,

"It worked, then?"

She nodded frantically, tears filling her eyes. She spoke so quietly then that he could barely hear her.

"I am nine days late."

"Well," he said, feeling as though he himself would cry right there at the table, "May I be excused, please, Ma'am?"

She looked a little confused, but she nodded. Melbourne rose and set his napkin down. He bowed to Victoria, then to the table, and choked out,

"Pardon me for a moment."

He rushed beyond Victoria and exited the dining room when the doors were held open for him. He stopped in the corridor outside the dining room and leaned heavily on a mantle. He covered his eyes with his hands and contemplated what this meant.

Victoria would not have to marry someone she did not love. She would not have to bear a child to her cousin George. She was… she was with child. With _his_ child.

No, he thought then. It was Albert's. This child would always be Albert's. This would be the Princess Royal or the Prince of Wales. This would be her legitimate heir, the child of her dead husband.

But he knew the truth. He had fathered Victoria's child, the same way he'd fathered children with Caroline. It was his baby that grew now in Victoria's womb.

He felt tears stream down his cheeks beneath his hand, and it took him fifteen minutes before he could gather himself, eyes still rimmed red and swollen, to go back into the dining room.

**Author's Note: Oh, my. So, she's pregnant. With Lord M's baby. But the announcement will be that she conceived with Albert before he died. What now?**

**Thank you so very much for reading and especially for reviewing.**


	8. Chapter 8

"Your Majesty is wearing lace today," noted Skerrett. "How very light and airy for a day as warm as today."

She pushed a few decorative pins into Victoria's hair, and Victoria felt her stomach quiver. She shut her eyes and thought of Princess Charlotte, who had died in childbirth and had been deeply mourned throughout the country. Victoria knew far too well what had happened to Charlotte. After fifty hours of labour, Charlotte had finally birthed a large stillborn boy. Hours later, Charlotte had complained of severe abdominal pain and had bled to death. Victoria tried not to imagine herself bleeding to death on a bed.

Skerrett coughed.

Victoria turned around and scowled. "Are you ill?"

Skerrett coughed again, three or four times, and then shook her head and insisted to Victoria,

"I have a bit of a dry throat, Ma'am. It's nothing."

"That's what Albert said," Victoria clipped sharply.

"Why don't you go get yourself some water," suggested Mrs Jenkins, who was readying Victoria's gloves, "and I'll finish up with Her Majesty?"

Skerrett curtsied and backed out of the dressing room, clearing her throat. Mrs Jenkins said softly to Victoria,

"I'm sure it's just a cold, Ma'am."

"Just a cold," said Victoria shrilly. "That's precisely what Albert said, except that he had consumption and _died_."

"Perhaps we ought not jump to conclusions, Ma'am," Mrs Jenkins soothed. She gave Victoria a meaningful look and said, "I'll have her moved, if you like. Owing to your condition."

"You know," Victoria whispered, and Mrs Jenkins tipped her head, smiling a little.

"Ma'am, we handle your linens. We've noticed the lack of blood."

"Right." Victoria felt her cheeks go hot. She let out a shaking breath and said, "I'm announcing it to the Privy Council today."

"Oh." Mrs Jenkins raised her eyebrows. "Good luck, Ma'am."

"Thank you," Victoria said. She stared at her own reflection in the mirror and said, "I think I may need it."

* * *

"Have you any idea why we've been summoned?" asked the Duke of Wellington. "Our Queen has an announcement, it seems. Do you suppose she has found a new husband so soon?"

"Oh, no." Melbourne shook his head vigorously. "No. She is still in deep mourning for Albert."

"Quite right," Wellington nodded. He opened his mouth as though he meant to say something else, but then a page called out loudly,

"Her Majesty the Queen."

Melbourne's heart hammered in his chest then as Victoria came walking into the room. She had a blue sash on, and a crown was atop her head. She was dressed as the monarch today. She moved up to the throne and sat, and everyone in the room bowed quite deferentially. Melbourne gulped. He knew what this was about. His eyes seared as Victoria found his gaze. She held it for just a moment, her face serious, and then she cleared her throat and looked out upon the assembled Privy Council.

"My Lords," she said in a clear, confident voice, "I have asked you here so that I might inform you of a wondrous development, even in the face of terrible grief. I am with child."

There were gasps and small exclamations of surprise, and then Victoria clarified,

"Before my dear, beloved Albert became severely unwell, our marriage was strong. He has left me with a beautiful gift - the gift of his child."

Wild applause broke out in the room, and Melbourne found himself numbly clapping as a tear threatened to boil over his eyelid. He brushed a knuckle there to rid himself of the tear, and then he watched as Victoria came off her throne. She began to mingle with the members of the Privy Council, and Melbourne watched as she was asked how she was feeling.

"My stomach quavers, but I am not altogether unwell," Victoria reassured her cousin George. He gave her a sour little smile and bowed his head. Victoria headed straight for Melbourne then, and he bowed to her. She held out her hand and reached for his, shocking him. The lace of her gloves was a little rough on his fingers, and he shivered.

"My good Lord M," she said stoutly. "I know this news must please you greatly."

Melbourne shut his eyes for a moment, and a sudden vision took him over. He could see Victoria sitting on a blanket in the gardens with a little toddling child. Dark wavy hair and seafoam green eyes, the child behind Melbourne's eyes had. It was _his_ child. Victoria's womb had been impregnated by him, by William Lamb. Not by Albert. He opened his eyes and said somewhat breathlessly,

"My most heartfelt congratulations, Your Majesty. This is beautiful news indeed. We see now how, even when someone leaves us, they grant us wonderful mercies. You are blessed indeed, as is all of your realm."

He was babbling, he thought. He wasn't making sense. But Victoria gave him a little smile and squeezed his hand.

"You must stay for dinner," she said, finally releasing him. Melbourne huffed a sigh and said,

"Ma'am, I had planned on going to Brocket Hall."

"To Brocket Hall," she repeated, and suddenly she looked heartbroken. She shook her head in confusion. Beside Melbourne, the Duke of Wellington eyed the sovereign and the Prime Minister with what seemed like deep suspicion. Melbourne gulped and said,

"My flowers need me at Brocket Hall, Ma'am. It has been so long since I have attended to them properly. They are neglected by me, you see, and -"

"I should love to come to Brocket Hall," Victoria said smoothly. "What a wondrous escape from the madness of the city during this delicate time."

Melbourne's eyebrows flew up. He touched his jaw and tipped his head.

"Of course, Your Majesty is always welcome at Brocket Hall, but -"

"Good. Then we shall both go. I'll bring a dresser and a lady's maid. No more than that. I want a quiet retreat from London whilst my condition is still fragile."

"A quiet retreat from London," Melbourne repeated. "Yes, of course."

"I shall be going away for a little while!" Victoria called out then, "for rest and relaxation away from court during these early days of being with child."

Everyone in the room went quiet. People seemed confused by Victoria's sudden announcement. Finally the Duke of Wellington said in his brusque voice,

"I wish Your Majesty nothing but tranquility and health."

"Thank you, Duke," Victoria said, her breath audibly shaking. "Lord M, I must make preparations to leave. You'll wait for me?"

"Y-Yes, of course." Melbourne bowed his head. "Your Majesty."

"Thank you all," Victoria said, and people gave obeisance once more as she turned and walked quickly from the room.

"The newspapers tomorrow will all lead with this news," said Wellington. Melbourne nodded.

"As well they should. Our Queen is with child. It is an exciting occasion."

"Yes, I'm certain you're thrilled," said Wellington. Melbourne looked at the elder statesman and frowned.

"What do you mean by that, sir?"

"Do you take me for a fool, man? She is going to your country house when she is in a state with no consequences to be had."

Melbourne's face and neck felt quite hot all of a sudden. He licked his lips and shook his head. "She quite invited herself, as I'm sure you heard. And, may I ask, are you accusing me of plotting criminal conversation with Her Majesty?"

"Criminal conversation has long been a part of your story, Melbourne," Wellington pointed out. Melbourne gulped and shook his head again.

"She invited herself," he repeated. "I will host her. I'll show her my flowers. My rooks. Nothing more."

"Of course." Wellington nodded and turned to walk off. Melbourne felt anger flush through him. He wanted to follow the other man, to tell him it was absurd and out of order for him to suggest that he and Victoria would ever do anything untoward. But then he remembered the way he'd thrust himself into her against a wall, the way they'd spoken to each other until they were hot-blooded and she'd swayed atop him in a chair. He thought of her taking his hand here, in front of everybody, of her inviting herself to Brocket Hall. He thought of all that, and he thought of the fact that her child was _his_ child - it was _their_ child - and he let Wellington walk away.

**Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter today - I promise tomorrow's update will be longer and much more interesting as they go to Brocket Hall.**


	9. Chapter 9

"Well, this is just silly," Victoria declared. She flicked her eyes from one carriage to another and said firmly, "You ought to ride with me."

"Your Majesty," hissed Melbourne from beside her, "You have already been a bit _obvious_ today."

"But we are going to the same place!" declared Victoria. "Why take two carriages?"

"Ma'am," Melbourne said patiently, "your dresser and lady's maid are not riding with you. Why would your Prime Minister?"

"You are my host," she said, smiling at him. He shut his eyes and shook his head.

"The Duke of Wellington already knows something is afoot. How long before everyone else figures out that you and I -"

"Hush," Victoria scolded him. She glanced around furtively and then said, "Very well. I see your point. I shall see you at Brocket Hall, Lord M."

The ride to Hertfordshire seemed to take forever, though it was only a few hours. When at last Victoria saw the red brick stately manse outside the window of her carriage, she grinned broadly. This was her dear Lord M's real home. He felt comfortable here. He was happy here.

He was waiting outside the door of her carriage when the footman opened the door. Melbourne held out his hand and smirked, and Victoria felt a flutter in her chest. She put her fingers into Melbourne's leather-gloved palm and stepped out of the carriage, looking around and thinking to herself about the time she'd come here to profess herself to Melbourne. He'd rejected her outright. He'd said that he didn't love her. He'd said he wanted nothing to do with her propositions.

"Things are different now," he murmured as she stood beside him, as if he'd read her mind. She smiled at him and nodded. She brushed her fingers over her lower abdomen and repeated,

"Things are different now."

He walked with her through the great entry of the house and into its opulent foyer, with the double sweeping staircase. Victoria plucked at the fingers of her gloves and pulled them off, holding them in one hand as she removed her bonnet. A servant rushed up and curtsied, taking the bonnet and gloves. Victoria figured they would wind up with the rest of her clothes; she did not keep track of individual items.

"The burgundy suite upstairs," murmured Melbourne to his startled-looking butler. The butler bowed his head and headed outside, undoubtedly to direct Victoria's trunks of clothes. Melbourne gestured towards the staircase and said, "Ma'am, I'll show you to your rooms."

"Thank you, Lord M." Victoria put her hand over his when he held out an arm to her. She ascended the stairs with him, and they went to the left. He directed them towards a heavy door, which he pushed open. Inside was a magnificently-appointed bedchamber, with French toile on the walls and deep burgundy velvet covers on the four-poster bed. Victoria looked around, her eyes welling heavily, and she dared to ask,

"Was this her room? Caroline?"

"No." Melbourne shook his head. "It was my son's."

"Oh." Victoria felt then as though she would surely cry, and she dusted a knuckle under her eye to sweep away the tears that threatened to fall. "You kept him close to you."

"So I did," Melbourne confirmed. "My rooms are just next door."

Victoria studied his pale green eyes and seized his hands. "Soon enough you'll be a father again."

"No," he whispered. "I will not."

"You will be," Victoria insisted, "even if it is in private. And I make you this promise, Lord M. Someday our child will know the truth."

"You must be careful what you say, Ma'am," Melbourne murmured. "Even the walls have ears."

She huffed. "Your rooms are just next door?"

"Indeed, Ma'am," Melbourne confirmed. She smirked just a little at him and asked in a low voice,

"Would you answer if you heard knocking in the night?"

His throat bobbed. "Yes. I would."

"I am already with child," Victoria reminded him in an excited sort of whisper. "You can go ahead and spill yourself within me with no -"

"Consequence," Melbourne finished for her, nodding. "Yes. The Duke of Wellington said as much."

"Oh, Hell take the Duke," Victoria grumbled. Her face lit up all of a sudden, and she said, "I want to see your greenhouse."

"Do you?" Melbourne raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't mind showing you about; I have missed my birds of paradise."

"Show me," Victoria gushed, seizing his wrist and dragging him from the room.

* * *

"My, but it is warm in here," said Victoria, and Melbourne smirked over his shoulder at her.

"Do you mind if I remove my coat, Ma'am?"

"I shall never mind if you take off any article of clothing," she japed, and his smile grew broad. He peeled off his black coat and hung it on the row of hooks near the greenhouse door. She looked around the greenhouse, and Melbourne held out his arms.

"These are my plants," he said. "Would you like a tour?"

"I would," Victoria nodded. Melbourne walked towards her and gently took her hand in his. She squeezed his fingers and walked with him over to an arrangement of tropical plants beside the waterfall that had been built in here. Melbourne paused before his chenille plants - a colourful bush that had grown nearly as tall as Melbourne, with bright red cattails. He breathed in, absorbing the floral scent that filled the space, and he felt Victoria's hand warm inside of his own. He licked his lips and said to her,

" _Acalypha hispida._ Chenille plants. Terribly poisonous for animals. There are distinct male and female specimens of the species."

"So, is this a gentleman plant or a lady plant?" Victoria laughed, and Melbourne chuckled in response.

"This one is a _she._ "

"Show me more plants. What is this here?" Victoria gestured to his bright pink-red hibiscus.

"These," Melbourne said, "are among my most finicky flowers. The hibiscus. A beautiful tropical plant which succumbs quickly and easily to a drop in temperature. I've started over five or six times with these, since occasionally the temperature will fall just a little and they'll perish."

"How tragic," Victoria said, rubbing her thumb over Melbourne's hand, "for them to be so delicate."

"Sometimes the most delicate things are the prettiest," Melbourne sighed. "On the other hand, strong plants are lovely in their resilience. Shall I show you my roses?"

"Oh, please do," said Victoria. Melbourne led her away from the tropical area and over towards the part of his greenhouse where he had a winding path, a wrought iron bench, and bushes of rose varieties. He gestured to the bench, and Victoria sank down onto it. Melbourne sat beside her, and suddenly he felt very, very happy. He was in love, and so sitting with the woman he adored in his greenhouse was a profound moment. He shut his eyes and felt them burn, and he whispered,

"I love you, Victoria."

"As I love you, William." Her voice sounded thick, and when he opened his eyes and looked at her, she murmured, "Kiss me, please."

He did not hesitate now, the way he'd hesitated when she'd first come to him complaining that she'd fallen out of love with Albert. He took her face in his hands and leaned towards her, brushing his lips against hers. She snared her fingernails up into his hair, which felt so good that he grunted softly and kissed her again, harder this time. He breathed in, smelling his roses, and her skin felt soft and smooth beneath his hands. He finally pulled back and mumbled against her lips,

"How ill have you been, really?"

"Hardly at all," Victoria said. "I have been slightly exaggerating the symptoms of pregnancy."

She pulled farther back and admitted,

"I want people to think I'm further along than I really am."

Melbourne nodded. "Yes, because Albert put a child on you before he became ill."

"They may think that, but I know what happened up against the wall in Dover House," Victoria whispered. Her eyes grew wet and red. "I know who my child's father is."

"We'll never be a family," Melbourne noted. "I will never even hold the child."

"Oh, yes, you will," Victoria assured him. She began to cry then, tears streaming quickly down her cheeks as she croaked out, "My Prime Minister will visit to see how I am doing after childbirth, and I will ask him if he wants to hold the Princess Royal or the Prince of Wales. And my Prime Minister will take the child in his arms and cradle the baby, staring into little pale green eyes."

"What if the baby does look like me?" Melbourne asked. "I've rather a distinctive face, and so did Albert. It may be very evident, upon looking on the child, who the father is."

"No one will ever be able to prove anything," Victoria said stoutly. "I was married when I conceived."

That was true enough, Melbourne thought. She had still been Albert's wife when Melbourne had put a child on her. He pinched his lips into a line and said,

"Perhaps this was all a grave error."

"On the contrary, Lord M; this is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. I am still so afraid of childbirth, but…" Victoria stared at the roses. She shook her head. "It is _your_ child, and so perhaps I am not so afraid as I might be. Your roses are lovely, Lord M. All of your flowers are beautiful. I can see why this is your paradise."

"It is more perfect than usual today," Melbourne told her, brushing a thumb under her eye, "thanks to the beautiful queen who graces it."

She smiled through her tears then, reaching up to cup his jaw, bringing him near her for another kiss.

* * *

"Mrs Jenkins," said Victoria as her dresser combed out her long hair, "Do you see Miss Skerrett before we left Buckingham Palace?"

"I did, Ma'am," Mrs Jenkins confirmed. "She thinks that cough of hers is from the blooming flowers. They make her sneeze, she says. They make her eyes water."

"How could one be so negatively affected by flowers?" Victoria demanded, thinking of Melbourne's greenhouse.

"It is not altogether unusual, Ma'am," Mrs Jenkins said. "Could be from the fresh hay in the stables and the like. Hay Fever, they call it."

"She is not coughing blood or anything so alarming as that?" Victoria demanded. "Albert was coughing up blood before he… you know, before he deteriorated."

"No, Ma'am; I do not think it's anything as serious as that." Mrs Jenkins finished with Victoria's hair and brought it behind her shoulders.

"Goodnight, Mrs Jenkins."

"Goodnight, Ma'am," Mrs Jenkins said, curtsying and backing out of the dressing room. Victoria rose and went into her own bedroom. She went to the wash table and poured a little water into a small bowl. She pulled her boar-bristle toothbrush out of her enameled dental hygiene kit and pulled the lid off the container of tooth powder. She dipped the brush into the water, then the powder, and she scrubbed at her teeth. Once they felt clean and fresh, she spit into the little bowl of water and rinsed her brush. She used a washcloth and dragged it over her face, though she'd bathed earlier. Her hair was still a little damp, in fact.

Victoria climbed up into the burgundy bed and settled herself beneath the blankets. This bed had belonged to Lord M's son, Augustus. He'd been troubled with all manner of health problems, Victoria knew. But Melbourne had never given up on him. He had not sent his son away to a sanitorium like so many would have done. Instead, he'd kept his child close and had held him at nighttime. He'd cradled his son.

Victoria touched at her lower belly and shut her eyes. She would birth this child, which would be declared the legitimate heir of the Queen by her late husband Albert. Melbourne would have to stand by and watch as Victoria held the child up as a true royal. But a sudden vision filled Victoria's mind - Melbourne, holding the hand of a small girl, showing her the flowers in his greenhouse here at Brocket Hall. It would never happen, Victoria thought sadly. He would never really be a father to his child.

She stared at the ceiling, contemplating the sorrowful reality of all this, until at last she realised that she was at Brocket Hall and Melbourne was next door. She could have him here, she thought. It had been foolhardy and rash to come here, she knew. The Duke of Wellington already suspected what was happening. But she needed her Lord M right now. She needed William Lamb.

Victoria climbed out of bed and very slowly opened the door that led from her bedchamber into the corridor. She peered out and looked from left to right. No one. She opened the door and rushed out into the corridor, pulling the door shut behind her. She tiptoed down the corridor, but there was a squeaky board in the polished wooden floor. Victoria winced and hurried along, going to the next large doorway. She let out a shaking sigh and raised her fist, knocking softly.

At first there was no answer, and Victoria contemplated going back to her own rooms, because she did not dare knock more loudly. But then the door creaked open, and Melbourne stood there before her, wearing nothing but a nightshirt.

He reached for her hand, pulled her into his room, shut the door behind her, and turned the lock. Then he wrapped his arms around Victoria and tangled his fingers into her loose hair, crushing her mouth with a feverish kiss.

**Author's Note: Well, that was fluffy. But now they're in his bedroom in nothing but pajamas. And she's already pregnant with his child. I think we all know what's coming next… ;)**

**I just want to say thank you so very much for reading and for all the feedback I've gotten on this story. It truly means so much and I hope you are enjoying reading it half as much as I'm enjoying writing it.**


	10. Chapter 10

She should not want him like this, Victoria thought desperately as Melbourne kissed her. They were not married. She was recently widowed. She was the Queen and he was her Prime Minister. And he was so, so much older than her. Flecks of grey spattered his hair, and there were crinkles around his eyes and lips. But she didn't care. She craved him with every breath she took; she longed for him with every moment that passed in her daily existence. And here they were, his arms tangled around her, his fingers snarled in her hair, his lips crushing hers. It felt good; it felt _divine._

"Bed?" He finally broke away just enough to whisper the syllable with a tremulous voice, and Victoria nodded breathlessly. His fingers fell from her hair and then went down to lace with her hand. His room, she could see in the candlelight, was emerald green and gold. His bed was covered in a luscious brocade blanket that had been pulled back to reveal rumpled sheets - he'd obviously been waiting in bed for her to come. She had warned him, after all, to expect her.

"I must be gentle with you, Ma'am," Melbourne whispered.

"Why?" she demanded, for she'd cooked up rather fantastical ideas of being plundered from behind. Melbourne gave her a serious look and then said,

"You are still early on. Too vigorous of… well, you know… if I am too rough with you, it could ruin everything."

She frowned deeply. She could miscarry the baby by having relations that were too rough? Well, fine, then, she decided.

"Gentle will do," she told him. Melbourne smiled a little and led Victoria to his bed. She climbed up with him, and he cleared his throat as he knelt facing her.

"Would you mind… the nightgown?" He seemed nervous all of a sudden, and Victoria gave him a warm smile. She tugged at the hem of her nightgown and vividly remembered her arguments with Albert about food, about getting fat. But Lord M had assured her that she was not fat. Would he find her attractive enough, she wondered? She pulled off her nightgown and let it fall onto the brocade blanket. She tried not to cover herself up with her hands, tried not to conceal her breasts and stomach and sex.

"Victoria," breathed Melbourne, and he reached out to brush his fingertips over her collarbone, "How very beautiful you are."

"You flatter your queen," Victoria said tightly, but her nipples peaked in the night air and she saw Melbourne's eyes go there. He shook his head as he stared at her chest, and he murmured,

"It's not flattery. It's the truth. My God; it aches inside, how pretty you are."

Victoria blinked quickly and felt her breath sweep from her lungs. She reached up and pulled Melbourne's hand down lower, until he cupped her breast. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his thumb drifting over her pert nipple. Then his fingers compressed on the soft, round tissue, and he muttered,

"I have wanted this for so much longer than was appropriate. It's never been appropriate."

"I want to be inappropriate with you, Lord M," Victoria said. He opened his eyes and visibly gulped, and then he whispered,

"Shall I take off my nightshirt?"

"Please do." Victoria smirked then, and he let out a quivering breath before stripping off the garment and placing it beside Victoria's. She studied him then - the lean, taut muscles of his shoulders and arms, the flat plane of his chest with a dusting of greying hair, the cock that was at half mast. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around him, stroking a little. He started to firm up at once, growing harder and longer under her touch. His chest heaved and his eyes clenched shut as his hand manipulated Victoria's breast. She felt herself flush profoundly wet between her legs, and then a sensation of swollen, throbbing want took her over.

"I want you," she said in a creaking, low voice. "I want you so badly, William."

"Come here," he said, and she ignored the fact that her Prime Minister was ordering about the queen. She was with William now, her Lord M, and she would do as he instructed her. He lay on his side, his head on the pillow and his body looking more alluring than ever as he faced her. He patted the sheets in front of him and said softly, "Lie with your back to me, Ma'am."

"All right."

Victoria snuggled up against him, feeling the prod of his erection against the small of her back. She ground backward a little and heard him groan, and then his hand laced around the front of her and massaged at her breast again. His fingers trailed down over her stomach and settled at her lower abdomen.

"You are with child," he said, as though he could scarcely believe it.

"Your child," Victoria clarified, and Melbourne's voice was thick then as he whispered into her ear,

"I love the both of you more than you'll ever know."

"William." Victoria turned her head and then gasped a bit as he kissed her hard. Suddenly Victoria had a need to have him inside of her. She needed to feel him. She moved her right leg up and panted against Melbourne's lips, "Please be with me now."

He took hold of his cock and pressed it to Victoria's entrance, and his voice shook as he noted, "Damp already, Ma'am. Tell me, I beg you. Do you want this?"

"I want _you_ ," she informed him, "More than anything."

He pushed in then, and Victoria tossed her head back. Melbourne kissed the back of her long hair and moved his hand downward, through the little thatch of hair until his fingers pressed against her nub. He pulsed them there, flicking and pushing, stimulating Victoria as he rocked into her from behind. This position did not allow for the deep penetration she'd felt when she'd been atop him, nor the frenzy that had accompanied their dalliance on the wall at Dover House. But it felt good, truly good, for him to just rock back and forth and for his hand to be caressing her womanhood.

For a long while, she just lay there with her fingers cinching on the sheets, grasping at the pillow. She bit her lip and moaned as Melbourne thrust into her over and over again, as his hand worked magic on her most sensitive spot. Slowly, pressure built up within her body, and her ears began to grow warm. She felt a clench in her stomach, a heaviness in her chest, and she realised she was on the verge of breaking.

"I'm going to finish," she declared, and Melbourne just pressed harder with his thumb and sped up his thrusts a little. Victoria moaned and whispered again, "I'm going to finish."

"Find your pleasure, Victoria," Melbourne huffed. He urged her to bend her knees up to her chest so he could enter her more deeply, but he kept his hand working on her nub. She wrapped her ankles around his leg and reached back behind her, planting her palm flat on the cheek of his muscled backside. She pushed herself up onto an elbow and turned her face to look at him, and she squealed softly as everything snapped.

She kept her eyes on his as she came, as her body contracted and clenched around his cock. She met his jade-coloured gaze and whimpered, feeling her face and chest flush hot. As her bliss faded a little, she murmured,

"Spill yourself inside of me, William."

"Mmph." He tipped his head back, and his mouth fell open. His hand flew up to Victoria's breast and squeezed so hard it almost hurt, and then he whispered frantically, "I adore you, the both of you."

He tipped Victoria's body further until his thrusts were deep and long, and he slid in and out so quickly that Victoria grabbed onto the pillow for purchase. She compressed her hand on his backside, feeling the muscle there work to thrust. She puffed out a breath of disbelief; how had she not known that relations could feel _this good?_ She let her head fall forward, her hair tumbling over her eyes, and then she heard William grunt a few times from behind her. His hips bucked unsteadily a few times, and then his thrust stopped and his cock throbbed and twitched inside of Victoria's body. He was emptying himself into her, she knew, but there was no problem with that, for she already bore a child within her.

Albert's child, she thought distantly. Or so everyone would be led to believe.

She seethed through clenched teeth as Melbourne let his softening cock slide out of her body, and then she felt him urging her to turn around and face him. He lay on his back, and Victoria instinctively curled up against him, putting her face on his chest and wrapping an arm and a leg over him. They were messy with his seed and her fluids, but she couldn't care right now. All that mattered was that they were here, together, and that they were in love. Wasn't that all that mattered?

Melbourne combed Victoria's hair out of her face with his fingers, his heartbeat racing near Victoria's ear.

"I am an old man," he complained. "I apologise if I do not satisfy you the way -"

"I am more than satisfied," Victoria told him. But then she thought about the fact that she would birth Melbourne's child, which would be presented to the world as Albert's legitimate heir, and then they would have to stop doing this… because, of course, if she were to fall pregnant again with Melbourne's offspring, it would be a scandalous bastard. Unless…

"Will you marry me, William?"

There was a very heavy silence in the room then. Melbourne's fingers stopped stroking Victoria's hair, and he cleared his throat quietly.

"I think you know why I can not," he said. Victoria pushed herself up and looked down at him, her hair brushing his chest. She shook her head and said,

"After the Princess Royal or the Prince of Wales is born, I will have a legitimate heir. And then I will surely be free to choose my own consort."

"Your consort." Melbourne shut his eyes and touched at his forehead. "I am not fit to be your consort, Your Majesty."

"Don't call me that," she hissed. "Not now, not after what we just did. Not when I have your child in my womb and you say that you love me."

"I do love you," he assured her, opening his eyes.

"Then marry me," Victoria insisted stoutly. He smiled a little, but it was a sad smile that did not reach his eyes.

"And what of children we would have? No title, out of the line of succession…"

"I do not care about that," Victoria snapped. "I care about spending the rest of my life with you."

Suddenly Melbourne went very serious. "You've already been widowed once. I am too old to -"

"I love you, William Lamb," Victoria said, feeling tears come to her eyes. "Once our child is born and baptised, I wish for you to be my husband. You have already rejected me once in this matter. I beg you, do not do so again."

He sat up slowly and laced his fingers into Victoria's hair. He leaned forward and kissed her lips carefully, and he asked,

"Is that truly what you want, then? You want to pretend forever that our child is Albert's, and then you want to wed me in what is promised to be a horrific scandal?"

"Hell take the newspapers, and Hell take my enemies," Victoria said harshly. "I want to be with you."

She touched at her lower abdomen and reminded him, "Your child grows inside of me. We are already a family."

Melbourne breathed slowly in and out of his nose, and then he kissed Victoria again. He pulled back, stared right into her eyes, and nodded.

"If it is truly what you want," he said, "then I will marry you after the baby is born."

"It is truly what I want," Victoria declared. Melbourne raised his eyebrows and sighed.

"My life has been one scandal after another. What's one more? Particularly when it is for my family's sake?"

She smiled at him and tipped her head.

"I have to go. I can't linger here. But I shall be right next door, dreaming of you."

"And I shall be right here," he said, "and I shall think of you, though you occupy my mind most of the time as it is."

Victoria pulled on her nightgown and gave Melbourne five or six more deep kisses before pulling herself off the bed. She opened his door slowly and peered outside, ensuring the upstairs hallway was empty. Then she glanced back to him and smiled, and he whispered,

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she said back in a hush, and then she slipped out the door.

**Author's Note: Awww, they finally got together in a bed. And it was "without consequence," as Wellington would say. And he's agreed to marry her once the baby is born. Surely no drama is headed their way. ;)**


	11. Chapter 11

"The Right Honourable Lord Melbourne," said the page, and Victoria folded her hands in front of her gently swollen belly. It had been two months since she and Melbourne had escaped to Brocket Hall, and since then they had only kissed and touched in furtive sessions at Buckingham Palace. Victoria's pregnancy was carrying on nicely; she was no longer queasy, and the aches had subsided greatly. She still feared death in childbirth, but Melbourne frequently talked her through those apprehensions and assured her that her doctors were more qualified than Charlotte's had been.

Now, at the end of summer, the day was stiflingly hot and the windows had been opened to let in what breeze there was. Victoria stood by her desk as a slightly relieving breath of air washed into the room. Melbourne came walking in, and Victoria grinned at him. He approached her and descended to a knee as the door shut. Victoria held out her hand, and he kissed her knuckles and then stood. He glanced behind him to be sure the page had gone, and then he took Victoria's face in his hands and lowered his face, kissing her carefully.

"I've broken my promise," he said, and she scowled, confused.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You once said you wanted to see me every day, but we have not seen one another in six days," Melbourne smirked. "I've taken my respite at Brocket Hall without you this time. I confess, it was little fun without my queen."

"If only we were free to act as we wished," Victoria bemoaned. She seized Melbourne's hands and said, "I want to announce the engagement."

His face hardened suddenly. "Victoria, you know very well why we can't do that."

"Why not?" Victoria snapped. "Everyone knows the baby is Albert's."

"Actually, Ma'am, there are a great many rumours that the baby is mine," Melbourne informed her. She pinched her lips and sniffed. She had seen one cartoon in a newspaper showing a heavily pregnant Victoria with Melbourne cradling her belly and saying, ' _One happy little family._ ' But she'd thought that had just been a rogue incident. Apparently, the whispers were growing.

"Wouldn't it be better," Victoria suggested, "to state that I have chosen my new consort, for the purposes of said consort carrying out official duties whilst I am with child?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I won't be able to be Prime Minister when I marry you, Victoria. And the Tories shall already be apoplectic about you marrying a Whig politician. The notion of declaring your intention to marry me when you are still pregnant is… it is unthinkable."

"I want people to know," Victoria said stoutly, but Melbourne shut his eyes and argued,

"You want to be free with me, and that requires people to know. All you need to do, Victoria, is to wait until you've had the child. Once the Prince of Wales or the Princess Royal is celebrated as Albert's child, _then_ you can -"

"I can not possibly wait that long," Victoria snipped. "Five and a half more months? Ludicrous!"

"You must wait just a few months," Melbourne said patiently, "because if you do not, you could be ruined forever."

"Nothing about being with you could ruin me," Victoria argued. "Even if they dragged me from the throne, so long as we are together, I can not care."

He gulped and shook his head. "Please follow my advice here, Your Majesty."

"You are going to marry me?" she asked in a shaking voice.

"Of course I am," Melbourne confirmed. Victoria took a breath and pushed,

"No matter what, you pledge to marry me?"

"I vow it," Melbourne nodded. "I have had months now to contemplate my future as your husband, and I could want nothing more."

"You promise?" Victoria asked again, and Melbourne frowned.

"I promise."

"I assume you came here to discuss politics?" Victoria asked primly. Melbourne nodded.

"The Chimney Sweepers and Chimney Regulation Act is up for a vote. Its purpose is to stop child labour; boys as young as six are sweeping chimneys, and it must stop."

"I wish for that act to pass," Victoria said seriously. "Children should not be sweeping chimneys."

"Hopefully, it will soon require your signature," Melbourne said. "Have you done your Boxes today?"

"I have. I received many letters from foreign leaders about the Act of Union. About Canada."

"You've responded?" Melbourne prompted, and Victoria affirmed,

"I wrote back to each one, yes. Is there anything else?"

"Just one more kiss, if you please," Melbourne said, smiling a little. He took Victoria's face once more and leaned down, brushing his mouth onto hers. But she was greedy, and she suckled on his bottom lip before he could pull away.

"I shall see you at dinner?" she said, and he smirked as he pulled back.

"Am I invited?"

"Always," Victoria said, and Melbourne bowed his head.

"I'll be there. You are a good and noble monarch, Victoria. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

Victoria's eyes watered a little, and she whispered to Melbourne,

"I shall see you at dinner, Lord Melbourne."

He bowed and brought her knuckles to his lips. "Ma'am."

He turned his back on her, eschewing the formality of it all, and walked out of the room.

* * *

"Drina, you're feeling well?" asked the Duchess of Kent at the dinner table. Victoria smiled a little at her mother and nodded.

"Much better now. Thank you, Mama."

"I see you've regained your appetite entirely," said the Duchess, and the table went quiet. Victoria's cheeks went red, and Melbourne felt anger flush through him. He cleared his throat and said a bit sternly,

"Victoria, you're eating for two. Enjoy your dinner, I implore you."

Suddenly her eyes went very wide. For a split second, Melbourne was confused. But then he realised what he'd done. He'd called her _Victoria._ He swallowed past the knot that had formed in his throat, and he looked around the dinner table. His breath and heart rate accelerated wildly as he turned his eyes back to Victoria and said seriously,

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty; that was wildly inappropriate."

The table was so silent that when Victoria put down her fork and knife, it sounded like the clang of cymbals. Melbourne shut his eyes, his ears gone hot.

"My dear William," said Victoria, and Melbourne's eyes sprang open. His mouth fell open, and he shook his head. But Victoria put her lips into a line and shrugged, tipping her chin up. She seemed quite emotional all of a sudden as she said, "I miss my beloved Albert so ferociously, and I bear his child in my womb. But I do so look forward to marrying you."

"Ma'am," he whispered frantically, glancing down the table at the rows of shocked faces. Harriet Sutherland had gasped and clapped her gloved hands to her face. Emma Portman was touching her eyebrows, her eyes lowered. And the Duchess of Kent's face was so red it was almost purple. She slammed down her cutlery and snarled,

"Drina, you are mad in your condition. You need a doctor."

"On the contrary, Mama; I am filled with joy." Victoria nodded, her eyes rimming red. "I am joyful because I have the heir to the throne in my womb - Albert's child - and because I have fallen in love again."

"Again," hissed the Duchess in disbelief. She shook her head and insisted, "You have been in love with Lord Melbourne since before your Coronation."

"We were… friends. That's all," Melbourne tried, but he wrenched his eyes shut and felt like he was going to vomit on the dinner table.

"Your Majesty," said Emma Portman from down the table, sounding desperate, "may I please be excused? William, if you'll join me in the corridor?"

"No, Lady Portman; you are not excused," Victoria said sharply. "This matter is not up for debate. I will not allow you to try and convince Lord Melbourne not to -"

"Victoria," Melbourne interrupted gently. She glared at him and tossed up her hands.

"You started it!"

"I made a mistake," he said quietly. "I called you by your name, and I am so very sorry, but -"

"You are going to marry me," Victoria confirmed, and Melbourne closed his eyes again. He shook his head and licked his lips. Finally he looked around the table and explained, as calmly as he could,

"Her Majesty requires a consort once the Prince of Wales or Princess Royal is born. She has honoured me by proposing marriage. I have accepted. The… the plan was to wait a gracious period of time after the birth of His Royal Highness' child, and then -"

"Pfft! Albert's child," spat the Duchess roughly, her lip curling up in disgust. "You plan on marrying and you think we don't know the truth?"

"What _truth_ , Mama?" Victoria demanded. She flew to her feet, and everyone else at the table quickly rose. Chairs scraped and cutlery was quickly dropped. The Duchess of Kent folded her hands in front of her gown and sighed. She pointed at Melbourne and said,

"You do not bear Albert's child. The baby's father is Lord Melbourne."

"How _dare_ you?" Victoria said loudly. She balled her fists at her sides, and Melbourne instinctively reached for her elbow.

"Victoria," he whispered, but she tore her elbow out of his hand and jabbed a finger towards the door.

"Mama, you have our permission to withdraw. You will leave court tomorrow morning."

"Leave court?" the Duchess' eyes went wide. Everyone else stood in completely stunned silence. The Duchess started to cry, tears bursting from her eyes as she stared daggers at Melbourne. "You disgusting man! Look at what you have done to my daughter! You will have ruined everything!"

"Get out of this dining room, Mama. If you do not leave on your own, I shall have you removed," Victoria said. The Duchess tossed down her napkin, gave a very sour curtsy, and backed as quickly as she could towards the doors. For a moment, Melbourne was afraid she would trip and fall, for she was withdrawing so quickly, but then she made it to the door and stormed out. She slammed the door shut behind her. Victoria stared down the table at everyone else and asked,

"Has anyone else got anything to say about Prince Albert's child or my upcoming marriage to Lord Melbourne?"

Silence.

"Then let us sit and eat," Victoria whispered, and she sank back into her chair. Everyone else sat, and the rest of the meal was quiet and subdued. After dessert, Victoria told Melbourne,

"Stay, William."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, feeling cross. He followed her out of the dining room as she left her ladies behind, and the two of them walked into a small drawing room. Victoria crossed her arms petulantly as she turned around and insisted,

"You left me no choice. You called me _Victoria._ "

"You might have left it with my apology, Ma'am," Melbourne suggested, but she shook her head and said,

"We are going to marry. I should like to marry soon."

His eyebrows flew up. "What, whilst you're still with child?"

"Yes." She seemed to be leaving no room for discussion, and Melbourne's head spun. He put his fingers to his forehead and paced a little.

"You are giving us no choice but to become embroiled in a scandal the likes of which England wouldn't have seen in centuries. You could be deposed. I could be tried for criminal conversation with the queen."

"My child is Albert's!" Victoria declared loudly. Melbourne walked right up to her and seized her shoulders as he whispered,

"Every single person in that dining room knows now that the child is _ours_. And you mean to put this baby forth as the legitimate heir to the throne?"

"I mean to make you my consort." Victoria tipped her head.

"You are acting like a… like a…" Melbourne's face went hot, and he wrenched his eyes shut as he hissed, "You are acting like a child, Victoria."

She gasped, and he opened his eyes to see her staring up at him with rage in her eyes. For a moment, he thought she would slap her, but instead she just murmured,

"I am no child. I am going to be a mother. I am a woman in love. And I am your Queen. Or have you forgotten all of that, Lord Melbourne?"

"I have not forgotten any of it, Your Majesty," Melbourne said, "but I fear for all three of us."

"Well, I acted impulsively," Victoria admitted, "but I needed people to know, because I need to be with you, William."

He huffed a sigh and said sharply, "I need to get ahead of this scandal. I'm going to go to The Duke of Wellington at once to discuss this. And then Robert Peel. I've always had enemies, but their ranks just multiplied. And now you have enemies, too, Victoria. Please let me go try and minimize the catastrophe."

"F-Fine…" Victoria seemed to be realising just what she'd done at dinner. Her face went pale and she whispered, "I'm sorry. I… I just love you."

"As I love you," he said, "but this will prompt all sorts of cannon fire blown into the side of Buckingham Palace. I need to go speak with the Tories."

"Go," Victoria hummed, and Melbourne bowed his head to her as he whirled and practically jogged out of the drawing room. When he got downstairs and out to the stables, he said to a groom,

"Ready me a fast horse. Now."

**Author's Note: Welp. They both acted incredibly foolishly. Him calling her** _**Victoria.** _ **Her declaring their intent to marry at the dinner table. And now Melbourne's in a race against time to contain the scandal. What will happen to them?**

**Thank you so very much for reading and reviewing.**


	12. Chapter 12

Lord Melbourne sat on a velvet bench in the centre of a large drawing room in Apsley House, the London townhome of the Duke of Wellington. The walls were lined with art piece after art piece; the Duke was passionate about paintings and sculpture. But Melbourne couldn't focus on any of the displayed works. He was far too anxious. He sat with his hands clenched together, his eyes searing as he realised just what he and Victoria had done to themselves.

He'd called her by her name, which had been an awful mistake. But then she'd taken it _so far._ She had screamed at her mother at the dinner table. She'd announced their engagement! He'd called her a child, and he felt a bit guilty about that, but her behaviour had been absurd. He could try as much as he wanted to blame it on the mood swings of pregnancy, but then he thought back to their meeting earlier in the day, when she'd asked multiple times if he was certain he'd marry her, no matter what. And then he thought to himself that she'd been planning on making some sort of announcement, whether Melbourne wanted it or not.

"Melbourne."

He rose to his feet as the Duke of Wellington came striding into the drawing room. The elder statesman raised his grey brows and said,

"I don't suppose you're here about chimney sweeps."

"No, I am not here about chimney sweeps." Melbourne rubbed his hands together as Wellington approached. Melbourne chewed his lip for a moment and said, "Tonight at dinner, Her Majesty made an announcement which, I am sure, will spark a horrid scandal."

Wellington's face hardened. "What sort of announcement?"

Melbourne blinked rapidly and then said, "She and I are to be married."

Wellington narrowed his eyes. "Because you are the father of her child."

"N-No," Melbourne insisted. "It's… it is so complicated, sir. It really is."

"How complicated could it be?" snapped Wellington. "You and that girl -"

" _That girl_ is our sovereign," Melbourne reminded Wellington, who sighed and nodded,

"Her Majesty has been quite attached to you since before her coronation."

"You and the Duchess of Kent seem to be on the same line of thought," Melbourne huffed, "and the Duchess of Kent has been banished from court."

"Then Her Majesty is acting foolishly," Wellington snarled. "To banish her own mother for speaking the truth. We all know the truth."

"You don't." Melbourne shook his head. Then he murmured, "You and Kitty… you sought out other comfort."

"How dare you bring _my_ marriage into this, Melbourne?" Wellington looked abashed. He began to pace with his hands behind his back and then walked over to a statue, which he stared at as he pointed out, "My marriage to Kitty was not the union of a monarch and a consort, with the need to produce an heir to the throne. My disdain for Kitty, and my own private business outside of marriage, has nothing to do with the Prime Minister engaging in criminal conversation with the Queen."

"Criminal conversation," scoffed Melbourne. "Are you really and truly suggesting that His Royal Highness' heir -"

"Are you really denying that you have ever been with Her Majesty in that way?" Wellington countered. Melbourne gulped, feeling his face go hot.

"I do deny it, sir."

"You are the colour of a rose; your cheeks betray you," Wellington chuckled. Then he shook his head and scratched at his hair. "Let us not perseverate on what has already happened. You say you mean to marry her."

"She proposed marriage to me," Melbourne affirmed, "and I agreed."

"I'm certain that was a difficult decision for you," Wellington taunted. He stepped back towards Melbourne and asked, "When is this marriage to take place?"

"That is… we have not quite agreed upon that bit," Melbourne admitted. "She wants to marry as soon as possible, but I -"

"Of course she wants to marry as soon as possible," spat Wellington. "She longs for you. It's been obvious for ages."

"But I," Melbourne said calmly, "have insisted that she first give birth to the Princess Royal or the Prince of Wales, then allow a gracious amount of time before we wed."

"You will resign as Prime Minister," Wellington said, "and she will choose Robert Peel. We'll need a Tory Prime Minister if the consort of the queen is a Whig, and a lowly one at that."

Melbourne sighed. "Of course I will resign, immediately. And I will encourage her to ask Sir Robert to form a government. I still think we ought to wait."

"No," said Wellington, shocking Melbourne. He stared at the elder man, the man who had won at Waterloo and had seen all sorts of glory in his life. Wellington told Melbourne, "You must marry her as soon as possible. You are fooling no one. Everyone at court knows your truth now. The worst thing you could do is carry on out of wedlock with her."

"And the Prince's child?" Melbourne asked, raising his eyebrows. Wellington scoffed.

"Congratulations, Melbourne. Your child will be the heir to the British throne. Now, if there is nothing else, it is quite late, and I've got letters to write to my Tory friends about this."

"Right," Melbourne said. He bowed his head. "For the sake of Britain, I ask your help in containing this."

"This is already a wildfire burning beyond your control, Melbourne," Wellington said, shaking his head, "but I will do my best to keep the government stable and the Queen on her throne. As for you, you'll never be anything but the monarch's toy. Know that. You will not be made a prince; you will merely be the morganatic spouse of the monarch. Any children you have with her will be out of the line of succession. Your legacy is ruined."

"On the contrary, sir. If I am her husband, my legacy will be wondrous," Melbourne said. Wellington stared at Melbourne and asked tightly,

"You love her, then?"

"More than anything, sir," Melbourne confirmed. He met the Duke's eyes. "More than anything."

"Then," Wellington sighed, "Congratulations on your engagement. Go see Peel. I'll write to members of the House of Lords."

* * *

Victoria stared at the cartoon in the newspaper as her eyes watered. There was an illustration of Victoria, swollen with child, and Melbourne was kissing her cheek, saying, _Fair play to Albert for getting out of the way._

She balled up the newspaper page and tossed it onto the ground near her desk. She buried her face in her hands and huffed a breath. This last week, since news had spread of her engagement to Melbourne, had been a living hell. Victoria had met with Whig and Tory politicians. Melbourne had resigned. Sir Robert Peel had been asked to form a new government and had agreed. But there had been whispers about Melbourne and Victoria, and the whispers had grown now into shouting.

One Tory politician had even suggested in the House of Lords itself that Victoria's child was Melbourne's and not Albert's. He'd been shouted down by the Whigs, with multiple Lords insisting it was out of line to question the paternity of the Queen's baby. But the newspapers had been relentless; columns and cartoons ridiculed the situation every single day. Two days earlier, a small crowd had gathered outside the gates of Buckingham Palace and had chanted, " _Shame! Shame! Shame on Her Majesty!_ _Shame on Lord Melbourne!_ "

"The Right Honourable Lord Melbourne," announced the page suddenly, and Victoria looked up to see Melbourne appear in the doorway of the room. She stood from her desk and walked towards him. The door shut, and she reached immediately for his face.

"William," she said frantically, "I did not know it would be as bad as all this."

"I tried to warn you, Ma'am," Melbourne said. He sighed and reminded her, "Wellington says we must marry quickly; people will not tolerate the idea of us coupling whilst we aren't married. And they all know… no one is oblivious to…"

"Yes, I know," Victoria said, pinching her lips. "The wedding must be terribly small, then."

"Not an affair of state by any stretch of the imagination," Melbourne confirmed. "We should marry in a private ceremony at St George's Chapel and honeymoon for a few days only at Windsor before returning here."

"I won't have a new gown made," Victoria said stoutly. "I shall marry in something I already own."

"I don't think any details should be publicised," Melbourne said. "We will need two witnesses. I suggest the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel."

Victoria scowled. "What?"

"I suggest," Melbourne said calmly, "that we have two Tory witnesses and the Archbishop of Canterbury. And then we should take three days to ourselves before coming back here. There should be the bare minimum of pomp and circumstance, Victoria."

"Well, I suppose I shall ask the Duke and Sir Robert if they will come," Victoria said, "but we need a date."

"Saturday next," Melbourne said at once, and Victoria's eyes went round.

"Less than a week! Have you gone mad, William? That doesn't give me any time to prepare -"

"Your dressers can come and fix you up nicely," he said. "Your ladies should stay here. There is nothing to prepare. This is going to be the most solemn and small wedding in royal history."

"Very well," Victoria huffed. She gulped and said, "I wished for more for us."

Melbourne tipped his head and stepped up to her. He planted his hand over her swollen belly and kissed her lips gently.

"You bear my child in your womb and I am to marry you," he said. "How could I possibly want more?"

"But you are disgraced," Victoria said, taking a step back. She looked as though she would cry then. "You have resigned as Prime Minister, and -"

"With all due respect, Ma'am, I was grateful for the excuse to do so," Melbourne smirked. Victoria puffed a breath and pointed out,

"The newspapers mock us. People have shouted at me through the windows. They question us in Parliament."

"It is as the Duke of Wellington himself told me," Melbourne said in a warm tone. "Scandal has always been a part of my life. I am a scandalous man. You have chosen, Victoria, to embroil us in scandal. And, as we walk forward together, we must embrace whatever comes towards us."

"Very well," Victoria said. "Saturday next, then. At Windsor."

* * *

"Your Majesty, I think this style suits you beautifully."

"I am so glad you are well again, Miss Skerrett," Victoria said, looking in the mirror in her dressing room at Windsor. Skerrett smiled weakly and said,

"I did see a doctor, Ma'am. He says it is the flowers and the hay. It happens every year."

"Well, I am relieved to see you recovered," Victoria said. She paused as Skerrett pushed pins into her elaborate, braided style and then asked, "Does everyone know?"

Skerrett's hands froze on Victoria's hair. She cleared her throat roughly and said, "A great many people suspect a great many things, Your Majesty. Only you and His Royal Highness would know the truth. And God."

"And Lord Melbourne," Victoria nodded. She swallowed the knot in her throat and asked, "Do you think this a suitable gown for a wedding? Even a wedding like this?"

"Oh, I think it's a lovely choice, Ma'am," Skerrett said. Mrs Jenkins, who was preparing Victoria's gloves, said,

"The pink is perfectly womanly for a marriage, Ma'am."

Victoria pinched her lips and looked at the pearls around her neck in the mirror. This was the exact ensemble she'd been wearing when Albert had told her that it didn't suit a queen. She looked too immature in pink and pearls, Albert had said. It had caused an argument. And now Victoria was wearing the dress and the pearls to marry her Lord M.

"These roses are beautiful; I've never seen this shade of pink before," mused Mrs Jenkins, holding up Victoria's small bouquet. Victoria smiled a little and said,

"Lord Melbourne grew them in his greenhouse at Brocket Hall."

"If I may speak plainly for a moment, Ma'am?" Skerrett said carefully, and Victoria turned around to meet her eyes.

"Yes?"

Skerrett's voice was soft then as she said, "For every voice being cruel about all of this, Your Majesty, there are ten whispers in your favour."

Victoria blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Most of your subjects are happy for you, Ma'am," Mrs Jenkins insisted. "People know that you felt enormous pressure to marry soon after your Coronation. And people have… well, if we're honest, people have known of your fondness for Lord Melbourne for quite some time. And so now they see that you carry His Royal Highness' heir, and that you are marrying for love, and they're happy for you. We are happy for you."

Victoria's eyes boiled over with tears at once, and she whispered,

"Thank you both. Now, we must go, or I shall leave Lord M waiting. My gloves, if you please, Mrs Jenkins, and my roses."

 **Author's Note: Whew. So, Wellington is** _ **kind of**_ **understanding the situation, but of course Victoria and Melbourne are facing an enormous amount of resistance. Now, let's see this private wedding and the brief honeymoon… shall we?**

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.**


	13. Chapter 13

The Duke of Wellington, national hero and fabled statesman, stood in the pews of St George's Chapel and watched as his monarch processed down the aisle. Melbourne flicked his eyes to Wellington and met his gaze for a moment. He squared his jaw and nodded, tugging at the hem of his Windsor Uniform. Wellington was in the Uniform, as well, along with Robert Peel, who stood beside Wellington.

The organ played a resounding piece in the nearly-empty chapel as Victoria walked towards Melbourne. She smiled at him, looking resplendent in pink. She wore no veil this time; she hardly looked bridal aside from the bouquet of Melbourne's roses in her hands. But as she approached Melbourne, his heart thudded and he realised he was happier in this moment than he'd ever been.

Ever.

"Marriage is intended by God to be a creative relationship, as his blessing enables husband and wife to love and support each other in good times and in bad, and to share in the care and upbringing of children. For Christians, marriage is also an invitation to share life together in the spirit of Jesus Christ. It is based upon a solemn, public and life-long covenant between a man and a woman, declared and celebrated in the presence of God and before witnesses.

On this their wedding day the bride and bridegroom face each other, make their promises, and receive God's blessing. You, the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel, are witnesses of the marriage, and express your support by your presence and your prayers. Your support does not end today: the couple will value continued encouragement in the days and years ahead of them."

Wellington and Peel looked distinctly uncomfortable as the Archbishop spoke directly to them. Wellington shifted on his feet, and Peel pinched his lips. Melbourne whispered to Victoria,

"You look magnificent."

"As do you," she smiled and said softly.

"God is love," said the Archbishop, "and those who live in love live in God, and God lives in them."

He said a long prayer then, and Melbourne's eyes flitted about the mighty chapel. It was far too grand a space for a measly ceremony like this one. But Melbourne's eyes settled on Victoria - beautiful Victoria - and then on her swollen belly, and his chest yanked.

"In the presence of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, we have gathered together to witness the marriage of William Lamb, Second Viscount Melbourne, to Her Majesty Queen Victoria. We pray for God's blessing on them; we share their joy…"

The Archbishop droned on and on, and Melbourne just stared at Victoria. She'd set her roses down and was facing Melbourne now, and he realised, not for the first time, just how very small she was. He wanted to dance with her, he thought. He wanted to sweep her up in his arms in a waltz.

"First," said the Archbishop, "I am required to ask those present whether they should have a reason why these two can not be lawfully wed."

Melbourne glared up at Wellington and Peel, who shook their heads minutely. Victoria huffed a sigh of relief, and Melbourne licked his lips. He'd been half expecting one of the two Tories to insist that the Queen marrying her former Whig Prime Minister was unconstitutional.

"The vows you are about to take are to be made in the presence of God, who is judge of all and knows all the secrets of our hearts; therefore if either of you knows a reason why you may not lawfully marry, you must declare it now."

Melbourne and Victoria looked at one another, and he knew what she was thinking. The child in her belly was not Albert's. It was Melbourne's. The child had been conceived against a wall at Dover House when Melbourne had agreed to save Victoria from marrying someone else after Albert's death. This was a secret child, and God knew the secret. So did everyone else, apparently. Still, Melbourne shook his head, and so did Victoria.

"William Lamb, Second Viscount Melbourne, will you take Her Majesty the Queen as your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?"

"I will," Melbourne said with all the confidence in the world. He meant it, too. He had been unfaithful to Caroline, but he would never, ever betray Victoria. He knew that much.

"Your Majesty, will you take William as your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honour him, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"

"I will." Victoria's eyes rimmed red, and she whispered the words as she seemed on the verge of tears. Melbourne instinctively reached for her hand and caressed it.

"Will you, the witnesses for Her Majesty and Lord Melbourne, support and uphold them now and in the years to come?" asked the Archbishop, and even he seemed to realise how strange the question was. Wellington and Peel looked remarkably uncomfortable then, but they both bowed their heads and affirmed,

"We will."

"God our Father, from the beginning, you have blessed creation with abundant life. Pour out your blessings upon Her Majesty the Queen and Lord Melbourne, that they may be joined in mutual love and companionship,in holiness and commitment to each other. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ your Son, who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, one God, now and forever."

"Amen," said the others, and Melbourne managed to finally croak out, "Amen."

The Duke of Wellington descended from the pew then and made his way to the lectern, where he cleared his throat and opened the text before him. He read in a clear, almost booming voice,

"A Reading from the Book of Genesis: _God blessed them, and God said to them, 'Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.'_ This is the Word of the Lord."

"Thanks be to God," murmured the others, and Victoria actually smirked a little. _Be fruitful and multiply_ , the reading had commanded. Well, they'd done their bit, Melbourne thought. They had been fruitful together.

"Your Majesty. Lord Melbourne. I invite you to join hands and make your vows in the presence of God and His people," said the Archbishop. Melbourne took Victoria's shaking right hand in his own and squeezed gently to soothe her. She swallowed visibly and blinked through the tears that threatened to spill.

"I, William, take you, Victoria, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part; according to God's holy law. In the presence of God I make… this vow."

He trailed off at the end, for his own eyes were searing and his stomach twisted with disbelief that he was actually marrying the woman he'd loved in secret for so long. He'd adored her, even when that had been the most forbidden thing for him to do. He'd put his child upon her, even when that had been a crime. He loved Victoria with all that he was, and now he'd just vowed to marry her. Would she say it back? Would she panic? He released her hand, and then she grasped his right hand again and said in quite a noble tone,

"I, Victoria, take you, William, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part; according to God's holy law. In the presence of God I make this vow."

"The ring," prompted the Archbishop, and Melbourne pulled the Welsh gold wedding ring out of his pocket. Victoria had removed her rings from Albert; her finger was bare. Melbourne passed the ring to the Archbishop, who held it aloft and proclaimed,

"Heavenly Father, source of everlasting love, revealed to us in Jesus Christ and poured into our hearts through your Holy Spirit; that love which many waters cannot quench, neither the floods drown; that love which is patient and kind, enduring all things without end; by your blessing, let these rings be to Her Majesty the Queen and Lord Melbourne symbols to remind them of the covenant made this day through your grace in the love of your Son and in the power of your Spirit."

"Amen," said everyone gathered. Then the Archbishop handed Melbourne Victoria's small ring, and she held out her trembling hand. Melbourne steadied her fingers with a little stroke of his thumb, and as he pushed her ring onto her fourth finger, he said in the gentlest voice he could manage,

"Victoria… Victoria, I give you this ring as a sign of our marriage. With my body I honour you, all that I am I give to you, and all that I have I share with you, within the love of God - Father, Son and Holy Ghost."

Today Melbourne would not be receiving a ring; he and Victoria had agreed that he would continue wearing his ring that he'd always worn. It would take on new meaning now, but it had been a family heirloom and held special meaning to Melbourne. So Victoria nodded and said,

"William, I receive this ring as a sign of our marriage. With my body, I honour you." She paused then and placed her right hand on the low swell of her abdomen. Her eyes welled thickly again as she continued, "All that I am… I give to you… and all that I have I share with you, within the love of God - Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."

"In the presence of God, and before those here gathered, William and Her Majesty Queen Victoria have given their consent and made their marriage vows to each other. They have declared their marriage by the joining of hands and by the giving and receiving of a ring _._ I therefore proclaim that they are husband and wife."

He took Victoria's right hand and linked it with Melbourne's, and he finished,

"What God has joined, let no man tear asunder."

Melbourne felt a tear escape his eye then and creep down his cheek. He helped Victoria kneel, for she was far enough along now that the action was difficult for her. He instinctively cradled her belly as she arranged herself on her knees. Then he faced the Archbishop, who said,

"Eternal God, you create us out of love that we should love you and one another. Bless this man and this woman, made in your image, who today become a sign of your faithful love to us in Christ our Lord."

"Amen." This time, Wellington and Peel sounded a little more enthusiastic. Melbourne glanced behind him to see that Wellington actually looked a little emotional. The elder man pursed his lips and nodded stoutly to Melbourne, who turned back to the Archbishop.

"By your Holy Spirit, fill bride and bridegroom with wisdom and hope that they may delight in your gift of marriage and enrich one another in love and faithfulness; through Jesus Christ our Lord."

"Amen."

"Bring them to that table where your saints celebrate forever in your heavenly home; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever."

"Amen."

"Let us pray with confidence as our Saviour has taught us," prompted the Archbishop, and Melbourne turned his eyes to Victoria as he incanted,

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us."

Melbourne thought briefly of Albert all of a sudden. Was he trespassing against Albert? Had Albert trespassed against Victoria? It didn't matter now, did it? All was forgiven. Albert was dead, and Melbourne was in love with Victoria. Things were different now.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, now and forever, Amen."

"Arise," commanded the Archbishop, and Melbourne stood before heaving the pregnant Victoria to her feet. It was all just a little ungraceful, especially for a queen, but no one was here to see her struggle. No one but Wellington and Peel, and they would never condemn a woman bearing the heir to the throne for lacking physical grace.

"God the Holy Trinity make you strong in faith and love, defend you on every side, and guide you in truth and peace; and the blessing of God almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be among you and remain with you always. Go in peace."

The organ sounded triumphantly again, and Melbourne took Victoria's right hand in his left one as she seized her roses. The two of them walked down the long aisle of St George's Chapel, and as they passed Wellington and Peel, the two gentlemen bowed respectfully. At long last, they reached the end of the aisle, and they pulled aside. The organ kept playing, and Victoria giggled like a madwoman as she seized Melbourne's face and pulled him down for a hard kiss. He grunted in surprise at her gall, but he kissed her back and then whispered against her lips,

"We are wed, you and I."

"So we are," she laughed. She tucked her head against the chest of his Windsor Uniform and reached for his left hand. She placed it on her abdomen and then whispered up to him, "I felt the baby move during the ceremony."

He pulled back a little and stared down at her in surprise. Then it was his turn to laugh, and he gnawed on his lip, feeling happier than he could possibly have imagined feeling.

"I beg your pardon," said a voice, and Melbourne turned to see a page, looking breathless and frightened. He held out a sealed letter that clearly read _The Right Honourable Lord Melbourne_ on the outside. Melbourne scowled and snatched the letter, scolding the page,

"You do realise that Her Majesty and I just got married… just now?"

"I do apologise, sir; it is apparently quite urgent. The message is for you and Her Majesty. I also have a letter for the Prime Minister."

Peel, he meant. Melbourne gulped, suddenly feeling that something had gone terribly wrong. He broke the seal on the letter as the page bowed and dashed off towards Peel. Melbourne pulled out the letter inside, which read quite simply,

_There are riots protesting Her Majesty's wedding. Fires burn in London. Stay at Windsor for both your safety, William - for all three of you._

_Emma_

Melbourne's mouth fell open, and he passed the letter to Victoria. She read it and blinked quickly, her breath shaking.

"I need to go talk with Peel," Melbourne said firmly, and Victoria just gave a numb nod as Melbourne kissed her forehead and turned on a heel, walking briskly through St George's Chapel towards the Tory Prime Minister.

 **Author's Note: Ohhhhhhh, nooooooooo. Riots protesting Victoria?** _ **Now**_ **how are they supposed to have a sexy honeymoon? (Where there's a will, there's a way.) But clearly they both have to handle this situation.**

**Obviously, I took a little bit of liberty with the Anglican wedding ceremony, but I hope it worked for you. Thank you so very much for reading and reviewing.**


	14. Chapter 14

Sir Robert Peel went to London at once. He left in a carriage immediately after receiving news of the riots. He was going to administer justice, he'd said. The military would get involved.

Now Victoria stood in a drawing room in her pink wedding gown, with Melbourne and the Duke of Wellington in their Windsor Uniforms. It was very strange, she thought. She'd just celebrated her marriage, and now she was fretting over riots in London. She cradled her belly and paced a little, worrying,

"What if innocents are harmed over this?"

"Sir Robert will see to it that the riots are suppressed quickly," Melbourne assured her. But Wellington cleared his throat and said,

"I'm sure you remember just as well as I do the rural rioting of 1830, Melbourne. And I'm sure you remember the way my carriage and home were attacked by mobs."

Victoria gasped. She hadn't known that Wellington himself had been attacked. Would people come here, targeting her and Melbourne? Would they be set upon and assaulted, too, here at Windsor?

"It is of utmost importance that Her Majesty stays here," Wellington pronounced, "for her own safety. Peel will keep the violence contained to London, I hope."

"You _hope?_ " Victoria repeated shrilly. She shook her head and felt tears boil up in her eyes. She tossed her hands up and demanded, "Why are they rioting? Could people possibly be so aggrieved about me marrying a Viscount that they -"

"It's not that I'm a Viscount," Melbourne cut in quietly. He shook his head and rubbed at his jaw. "It's that they are all now convinced that I am the father of your child."

"And are you?" asked Wellington. Victoria glared at him,

"How dare you, Duke?"

"Of course I am," Melbourne sighed. Victoria's eyes went wide, and she stared at him for a long moment, but Melbourne met Wellington's gaze and declared, "I think you have known for some time, sir, that Her Majesty's child is also mine."

Wellington nodded. "It has been… a bit obvious. I must say."

Melbourne turned to Victoria and said, "The rioters are not offended by you and I marrying in the wake of Albert's death nearly so much as they are offended by you passing off our child as the heir to the throne. By trying to pretend that the father was Albert, you are lying to your subjects. They are not taking kindly to it."

"So what do I do?" Victoria demanded. "You and I are in a morganatic marriage; our children can not be in the line of succession."

"There is always your uncle," murmured Melbourne. Victoria scowled.

"You want me to abdicate?" Victoria was in disbelief. She scoffed. "I am the legitimate Queen."

"Of course _I_ do not question your legitimacy, Your Majesty, but please remember that there was quite a succession crisis before you came to the throne. There are those who believe…"

He trailed off, but Victoria knew precisely what he meant. There were those who believed the teenaged queen was not fit to rule. But Victoria remembered her trips around the country as a younger girl, when she'd been enthusiastically welcomed as the heir presumptive. She pinched her lips and looked at Melbourne.

"If I abdicate, what will become of us?"

He tipped his head and sighed a little, and he said quietly, "You would become Her Royal Highness the Duchess of… whatever the Prince titled you… and I would likely become the Duke. And we would retire to a place of our choosing and raise our family together in quiet solitude."

"Oh." Victoria's throat felt thick all of a sudden. She blinked a few times and whispered, "That sounds pleasant."

Melbourne was quite serious as he shook his head and said, "You have made a terrible mistake in marrying me, Victoria."

"Ought I have married my cousin George instead?" Victoria spat. "I married you for love. It matters, love. Doesn't it? Doesn't it count for something?"

"They are burning down London because of our child, Ma'am," Melbourne said softly, and Victoria huffed a breath.

"Then they shall have their King, and we shall have our family."

* * *

A few hours later, a message arrived from Sir Robert Peel. The military had had to stop an angry mob from storming Buckingham Palace. _Bastard! The Queen's child is a bastard!_ They had been shouting.

Melbourne had insisted to Victoria that the British people were riotous but not revolutionary, and that the crisis could be overcome, but she couldn't help feeling helpless, like she'd personally imposed violence upon her people simply by falling in love.

She lay facing Melbourne in her bed and reached for his greying hair. She shook her head against the pillow and whispered,

"I did not mean to love you quite like this."

"Nor I," Melbourne confirmed.

"William, I did not mean to _need_ you like this," Victoria said. "When I asked you to put a child on me, I was trying to save myself from an unwanted marriage. If only Albert had stayed alive… but then you and I would not be in this bed together."

"No, we would not," Melbourne said stiffly. She reached between them and started to stroke gently at his limp cock, her fingers brushing over him as he seethed through clenched teeth. Victoria whispered,

"We could live at Brocket Hall. Would you like that?"

"There is no good that comes of you abdicating, Victoria. You were born to be Queen," Melbourne said. "It would be an unmitigated tragedy. I do not at all wish for you to lose your crown."

He started to stiffen up beneath her hand, and Victoria murmured,

"You are so much more important to me than any crown. You and our child. I want nothing more than the two of you. And I wish to live out my days as a Duchess. The Duchess of York, perhaps. And you will tend to your flowers, and we will tend to our children, and -"

He cut her off then by snaring his fingers into her hair and pulling her close for a kiss. He pressed his lips against hers, and he went harder than ever beneath her hand.

"It is our wedding night," he noted, and she nodded.

"I carried your roses," she said against his lips, and he whispered,

"You wore pink and pearls. You were magnificent."

"I love you." Victoria kissed him so hard that her lips hurt a little. "I love you, William. More than anything. So much more than being Queen."

"They know about that time on the wall at Dover House," he fretted. "They know."

"Well, they don't likely know it happened against a wall," Victoria laughed softly. She kissed Melbourne again, and he nodded.

"Right. I need you now, Victoria. I do need you."

She knew what he meant, for he was throbbing beneath her touch. Melbourne reached to hike up Victoria's nightgown, and he touched his fingers between her legs. She shut her eyes and just sank into the touch, into the way the pads of his fingers pulsed gently on her nub. After twenty or thirty seconds of him massaging her, she started to flush wet, and he muttered,

"It is our wedding night."

"So it is," Victoria confirmed. She was damp now, and she felt Melbourne's hand go to the small of her back and pull her closer to him. They were still facing one another, and she yanked up on his nightshirt until his cock was revealed. She lay on her back, her swollen belly big enough now to tent the blankets. Melbourne curled up alongside her and slid one leg between the two of hers. She rocked to face him, and he slid his cock inside of her. Victoria gasped at the sensation of being filled by him, at the glorious feel of him within her. She let her belly press against his and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. He rocked slowly back and forth, and he leaned to kiss her.

She would never climax like this, she knew, but she didn't care. This was so, so intimate - the way they were lying facing one another with their bodies tangled and twined. Victoria felt him pump his hips, felt him splay his hand on her back, and she relished the feel of his tongue within her mouth. After what felt like an absolute eternity, Melbourne broke the kiss and touched his forehead to Victoria's.

"I need you to find pleasure," he whispered, but she replied,

"William, this is exceedingly pleasurable."

"Oh." He quickened his strokes a little, and then he went still and his breath hitched on Victoria's lips. He gasped slightly, his hips jerking a few times. Victoria felt him twitch inside of her, and she knew he was spilling himself. She shut her eyes and smiled. She was with him. She was _with_ him.

"Lord M," she whispered, and she felt him kiss her. "Lord M. William."

"I love you," he said back. "More than you'll ever know."

He slid out of her, but they still faced one another. Melbourne put his hand on Victoria's stomach and sighed. Then, suddenly, there was a flutter and a little jolt within Victoria's abdomen, and Melbourne gasped. Victoria giggled.

"You felt that?"

"I felt that," he said in wonder. She stared at him, and a tear immediately streamed down his cheek. "I felt that."

He swiped roughly at his cheek with the back of his hand, and Victoria felt her own tears well up. She shook her head and said,

"I don't want them burning down London over our baby. And I won't lie anymore. I am going to go live with you at Brocket Hall."

"No more talk of abdication," Melbourne complained. "It is our wedding night, and I have just felt our child move. I beg you, let us find happiness together for a few hours."

They did, talking quietly about his flowers and other happy things, until at last Melbourne whispered,

"Sarah. As from the Bible."

"The baby, you mean," Victoria said. Melbourne rubbed at her belly and whispered,

"If it is a girl."

"Sarah. I feel that the child is a girl," Victoria said. "Sarah was banished from Egypt. She had to pretend about who she was, lying to the Pharaoh."

"But in the end, her truth was revealed." Melbourne stared at Victoria. "Sarah."

* * *

"Your abdication will prevent several things, Your Majesty," said Sir Robert Peel. "First, it will prevent the Tories in government from dissolving the government and causing a Constitutional Crisis. Second, the news has stifled all rioting and will likely quell the ill temper of the people. This decision will spare lives, I should think."

"Right," said Victoria, putting her hand on her belly. "And this is all because the people… because of the child's parentage?"

"It is, Ma'am," Peel said awkwardly. "It was not the marriage that was so opposed, but rather that the child is viewed as having been conceived when His Royal Highness Prince Albert was still alive but unwell. And, frankly, Ma'am, I do not suppose there are many people who still think the child's father was the Prince."

"Right," Victoria said again. She let out a shaking sigh. "I have signed the instruments. The last thing to do is to give my Royal Assent to the Declaration of Abdication Act. I shall do so now."

She walked on trembling legs to her desk and sat. She thought over the last few weeks and nearly cried. Her mother had shrieked at her when Victoria had brought her back to court to hear the news of the abdication.

"Drina!" the Duchess of Kent had screamed, and then she'd rattled on in German that Victoria had inherited her grandfather's madness, that she was not fit to rule if she were willing to give it all up just to marry Melbourne and bear his _bastard._

Only, the child was not a bastard, Victoria thought. Victoria and Melbourne were married now. Perhaps the baby had been conceived under questionable circumstances, but it did not matter now. Mother and father were wed. Still, the newspapers had praised Victoria's "willingness to see the displeasure of her subjects about her morganatic misdeeds." Another newspaper had written ad nauseam about how Melbourne had always been a scandalous man, and how his latest scandal had crossed a line and cost the Queen her crown. It was right and just, the newspapers had said, that Victoria hand over her reign to her uncle, who took the popular name George.

So Victoria had signed the instruments in the presence of George, her Uncle Sutherland and her Uncle Cumberland, and of course Sir Robert Peel had been there. Her hand had shaken like mad the entire time. She would no longer be Queen, and all because she and her Lord M had needed one another so badly.

She'd asked him to save her from a new marriage after Albert's death, and he had done so. He had rescued her from marrying someone like George, or some Russian or German whom she did not care for. She had been spared a new, loveless marriage to produce heirs. She had married Melbourne. She bore his child in her womb. And now she was signing away her reign as Queen because she had chosen love, and because Melbourne had rescued her.

"I am so relieved to hear the rioting has stopped," Victoria choked out. Sir Robert Peel shifted on his feet and said carefully,

"The people will still adore you personally, Ma'am."

"My uncle has insisted that I be named Her Royal Highness the Duchess of York," said Victoria, "but my beloved William will not be given a royal title. He will remain William Lamb, Second Viscount Melbourne. And we will go to Brocket Hall, and I will have our child there."

"Brocket Hall, Ma'am," Peel repeated, sounding surprised. "It is a plain home for a Duchess and former Queen."

"It will be the perfect home," Victoria insisted. She blinked through her tears and read over the Act on her desk. She dipped her pen into ink and put it to the paper, and she signed,

_Victoria R._

"There," she said, blowing on the paper and holding it up to Sir Robert Peel. "It is done. I am no longer Queen."

He took the paper from her and nodded. Then he bowed respectfully and said in a soft voice,

"God save you, Ma'am."

He backed slowly from the room, and the moment the door shut behind him, Victoria erupted into great, heaving sobs, leaning heavily on her hands at her desk.

**Author's Note: Well, we all knew that the rioters and Parliament weren't going to settle for the ruse Victoria tried to push on them, nor the marriage to Melbourne. So will they go live a happy life at Brocket Hall? Thank you as always for reading and reviewing.**


	15. Chapter 15

There were crowds outside Buckingham Palace.

On the morning that Victoria got into a carriage with Melbourne to depart for Brocket Hall, a great swell of cheering could be heard. Melbourne sat in the carriage with Victoria and stared out the window in wonder as they passed throngs of ordinary people.

"God save the Queen!" they screamed.

"Shame on those who tore Her Majesty from the throne!"

"Peace be with you, Your Majesty!"

Victoria waved, her gloved hand visibly shaking as she looked out one side and then the other of the carriage.

"They still call me _Your Majesty_ ," she murmured, and Melbourne shifted on his bench.

"Just because the Tories and the rioters disapproved doesn't mean everybody did, Ma'am."

Victoria was silent then. She waved to a child they passed, who held up flowers fruitlessly, for the carriage was moving at a brisk pace.

"God save Her Majesty Queen Victoria!" exclaimed a man, and a great cheer went up.

"You don't suppose my uncle will have any troubles?" asked Victoria, and Melbourne tipped his head.

"Are you suggesting that our child will spark a civil war, Victoria?"

"Well, I certainly hope not," she fretted. Melbourne gulped and shook his head.

"His Majesty will be fine. As I've told you, the English are a riotous but not a revolutionary people. Parliament, on the other hand…"

"God bless your marriage!"

"Happiness upon Lord Melbourne and Her Majesty!"

Victoria waved again, smiling a little. Ordinarily, riding in a carriage through crowds, she would have a crown upon her head. But she'd only kept a few tiaras as a Duchess. In fact, she'd had to rid herself of most of her belongings, for Brocket Hall was not big enough to house everything she'd acquired as Queen.

"Are you certain, Victoria?" Melbourne prompted, and she blinked at him.

"It is a bit late now to be uncertain," she said. "George is already King."

"I mean to say," Melbourne said cautiously, "are you certain you wish to live at Brocket Hall?"

"It is where you find your peace and tranquility," Victoria pointed out, "and so I shall be very happy there with you, I think."

They cleared the crowds and rode on for several hours until they reached Hertfordshire. Victoria stared out the window for most of the ride, and Melbourne thought that she seemed quite thoughtful. He wished, suddenly, that he could read her mind. What was she thinking? Was she contemplating that she'd given up what had been promised as a long and glorious reign as Queen in order to live in a country house with a minor lord?

"Victoria," Melbourne said at last as they neared Brocket Hall, and when she turned her face to him, he sucked in air hard through his nose. "You are so beautiful."

"Even with my puffy face?" Victoria worried. She touched at her cheeks and nervously said, "I've noticed in the mirror. My face is swollen."

"You are with child - with _our_ child - and so you are more beautiful now than you have ever been," Melbourne assured her. She smiled a little at him and patted her own cheeks. Then she rubbed her gloved hand over her belly and said,

"The baby moves all the time now."

"May I try and feel?" Melbourne asked. She reached for his hand and pulled him across the middle of the carriage. She touched his hand to her belly, but there were so many layers between them. His leather gloves, her cotton day dress, her corset, her shift… Victoria felt a light flutter in her abdomen, and she grinned. But Melbourne shook his head and complained,

"Too much fabric."

"You can feel tonight," Victoria promised him, "in our bedroom."

"Do you mean to sleep with me every night?" Melbourne raised his eyebrows, and Victoria nodded.

"Of course I do."

"You may have your own space," Melbourne assured her. "It's not a -"

"I wish to wake every morning beside you," Victoria said. She was thoughtful again then, and she said quietly,

"Before we left, my uncle told me, ' _They were wicked to you in your childhood. You have earned happiness, niece._ ' Do you suppose he meant it, or do you suppose he is just glad to be King?"

"Regardless of his sincerity, he is right," Melbourne said. "Sir John and your mother were wretched throughout your upbringing. I do not mean to speak ill of your family, but… it enrages me when I think on it. I dislike Sir John Conroy more than just about any man."

 _Perhaps beside Byron_ , he thought, blinking quickly. Victoria stared at him and asked,

"Have I really earned it? Happiness? What have I done to earn it?"

"We have fallen in love," Melbourne said simply, "and love deserves happiness. Still, I mourn your reign. I feel… remarkably responsible for all of this."

"Well, of course you are responsible," Victoria scoffed. "But that scarcely means you must feel guilt. You have brought me more bliss, Lord M, than any person ever has. And I mean to grow old with you."

His breath hitched at that. By the time he was a crinkled, wizened old man, she would still be young and beautiful. He licked his lips and tried to tell her that it was too late, that he was too old for her, but instead he just whispered,

"I love you."

"Oh, we are here!" she suddenly exclaimed, and Melbourne looked out the window to see his home sprawled before them. It was _their_ home now. Frederick and Emily had agreed to visit often, especially now that Melbourne was married to a former queen and not ' _the little beast_ ' - the nickname they'd bestowed upon Caroline.

The carriage pulled up in front of Brocket Hall, and Melbourne let the coachman open the door before crawling out. He held out his hand for Victoria, who struggled to get out of the carriage door. Melbourne instinctively put his hands on Victoria's hips and lifted her out, and she giggled as he set her down. He took her face in his hands and kissed her lips carefully, right there in front of everyone, and he said in a gentle voice,

"Welcome home, Victoria."

* * *

"Do you remember what you told me here?" Victoria asked as they walked along the path on Brocket Hall's extensive grounds. "Do you remember when I came to you as a woman, and not as a queen, and you told me that you could never love me?"

Melbourne's eyes watered a little, but he choked out, "That is not _exactly_ what I said."

"You rejected me," Victoria pointed out.

"How could I possibly have accepted what you wanted of me?" Melbourne demanded, keeping his voice steady. "You wanted, as Queen of England, to marry me in a morganatic marriage in which our children would never accede to the throne."

"And look at us now," Victoria pointed out. "Married. Me with child. Us here at Brocket Hall to live."

"Not at all what God had planned for you," Melbourne said sorrowfully, but Victoria shook her head and insisted,

"On the contrary, William. This seems divinely ordained."

"Do you miss him?" Melbourne asked, and when Victoria gave him a confused look, he specified, "Prince Albert."

"Only a little," Victoria confessed. "It is difficult to miss him when I am so happy now."

Melbourne coughed out a bitter laugh, and Victoria scowled at him. "What is so funny?"

He sighed. "You have abdicated the throne and have come to live in my little house. How could you be so very happy?"

"Because," she said simply, staring right into his eyes, "I have you. And our child."

An hour later, they meandered over to the greenhouse, for Melbourne said he had work to do. Victoria decided to come watch, and when they walked inside, she fanned herself and immediately untied her bonnet. She pulled it off and hung it by the door, and she dragged her hands down over her day dress of blue and white damask.

"Is this what the jungle feels like?" asked Victoria, and Melbourne smiled as he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.

"That is what we are attempting to reproduce," he said. "Oh, how I have missed my orchids."

"May I see?" Victoria asked, and Melbourne gestured for her to follow him. He walked past his waterfall and over to where he had orchids growing in abundance. He turned to Victoria and explained,

"Orchids are remarkably temperamental. They require a great deal of humidity and heat, but the temperature of the greenhouse must drop at night. The air must be kept fresh, and the lighting must be well-controlled."

"They sound like babies," Victoria mused, "with all the care they need."

"They have been rather like family to me," Melbourne said softly, "for a long while now. That sounds silly, to speak that way about plants."

"It is not silly," Victoria insisted. Melbourne smirked a bit and said,

"One does not pot orchids in soil. Instead, they grow in a mix of peat, bark, and other materials."

"How interesting," Victoria said. She pointed to a large purple orchid plant and breathed, "Those are _so_ lovely."

"These…" Melbourne said, brushing his fingertip around the pot. " _Phalaenopsis._ "

"You are a scholar of plants," Victoria said. Melbourne shook his head and insisted,

"I am not a scholar of much of anything, much to my chagrin. Do you know, the wrong amount of water makes these orchids' leaves fall off? Too much water… no leaves. Too little water… the same result. The peat moss must be watered when the top two inches dry out."

He took a watering can and went to the pump in the corner, filling it. He came back to his orchids and touched at the peat tops, feeling for dryness. He began to put a precise amount of water into each pot, and when he'd finished, he turned around and looked at Victoria.

"It must be terribly dull," he said, "watching an old man water his flowers."

"On the contrary, Lord M," Victoria said, sounding a little breathless, "it is a wondrous thing to see."

He walked towards her and put his arms around her shoulders. She stared up at him and rubbed gently at her belly. He blinked down at her, still in wonder that she had given up so very much to be with him here.

"How I adore you," he murmured, and she whispered back,

"You are the only one who understands me. And, I think, you are the only one who ever will."

"Emily and Lord Palmerston will be here for dinner tonight, you'll recall," Melbourne said, and Victoria chuckled.

"What time are they meant to arrive?"

"Around three, I think," Melbourne said, his own smirk growing. Victoria raised her eyebrows.

"Your sister is so perpetually late that I should think we'll be lucky if they are here by six."

Melbourne laughed, taking Victoria's hand in his and kissing her knuckles. Then he bent and whispered against her lips,

"You can be a cruel creature when you want to be."

"We shall see," Victoria teased, "What time Lord Palmerston's carriage rolls up."

Then she kissed him back, much harder this time.

* * *

She was right, as it turned out. Emily didn't arrive until half-past five, and by then Victoria was growing impatient. She paced in the grand foyer of Brocket Hall until at last the doors opened and the butler announced,

"Lord and Lady Palmerston."

"Oh!" Victoria exclaimed. "Emily. How good to see you."

Emily and Lord Palmerston dipped into obeisances at once. Emily murmured gently,

"Your Royal Highness."

"Oh, Emily. We are sisters now!" Victoria exclaimed. She walked up to the lady she'd known for a good while now and snared her arm through the other woman's. Emily smiled broadly and whispered,

"Sisters."

"Indeed," boomed Lord Palmerston, clapping Melbourne on the shoulder, "It is a good thing to marry for love. There could be no better thing at all, could there?"

Emily and Lord Palmerston would know, Victoria thought. She had personally granted permission for them to marry - both of them in their fifties, Emily a widow, Lord Palmerston a known charmer who had fallen hard for Emily. They made one another quite happy, Victoria knew.

At dinner, Victoria was seated at the head of the table, as the highest-ranking person in the room. The others waited for her to pick up her spoon when soup was served, but Victoria laughed and insisted,

"I am not Queen anymore; those rules no longer apply."

"It feels strange to me," Emily complained, "For you to be here as a Duchess, Ma'am. I hope you have been able to derive some happiness from the situation."

"The situation?" Victoria sipped from her glass and set it down. "The situation, Lady Palmerston, is that I am very much in love with your brother. The people could not accept it."

"Many, many people could," Lord Palmerston said gravely. "If only the rioters hadn't -"

"Yes, but the rioters _did,_ " Victoria cut in. She pinched her lips and reminded the others, "They were burning down innocent shops and houses. They beat a few of my supporters to death. And they screamed, at the top of their lungs, that the Queen bore a bastard who would never ascend to the throne."

"I believe the riots would have died down with time," Melbourne said in a hush, swirling his spoon in his soup, "but not the sentiment against Victoria. Once she and I… once we decided… it was too late. I'd already ruined her reign by the time the whispers started."

"William, the whispers started before her coronation," Emily pointed out. She chewed her lip and glanced at her husband. Lord Palmerston huffed a breath and asked,

"What birds have been about this time of year? Besides your rooks?"

"We saw a sparrowhawk on our walk earlier today," Victoria said, and Emily tipped her head and said lightly,

"Ah! A sparrowhawk. I pray it was not in the process of hunting when you saw it?"

"It swept up a mouse and flew away," Melbourne smirked, and the others laughed as the topics of conversation stayed mercifully off of Victoria's abdication.

Once they had settled in for the night, Victoria sat up in bed and waited for Melbourne to finish at the washing stand. He turned towards the bed and began walking, but she whispered,

"Stop."

He did, frowning, and she continued,

"Take the nightshirt off, will you?"

Melbourne stripped it off and held it out, letting it fall to the ground. Victoria stared at his body, at his lean and sinewy muscles, at his greying hair and his manhood. And then she said to him,

"Tonight will not be slow or easy or gentle, Lord M. Please come here."

**Author's Note: Hate to leave you hanging, but I want to give this some good space. So Victoria is happy in her abdication, and people still love her, but Melbourne is wracked with guilt. How shocking!**

**Thank you as always for reading and reviewing.**


	16. Chapter 16

Victoria tipped her head back, her long hair cascading over her shoulders as Melbourne massaged a breast with one hand and rubbed at her arm with the other hand.

"Tell me what you're going to do to me," Victoria murmured.

"I am going to make you flush between your legs," Melbourne replied breathlessly.

"Too late," Victoria laughed. Melbourne smirked.

"You'll feel swollen… throbbing…"

"Too late," Victoria said again. It was true, too. His touch on her breast, combined with the sight of his nude body, had made her wet, thoroughly aroused. He dragged a thumb over her peaked nipple, and Victoria let out a little guttural noise. She reached between them and wrapped her fingers around Melbourne's manhood, stroking a few times before hearing him groan softly. She pulled her fingers around his tip, and he muttered,

"God have mercy on me."

"Why?" Victoria smiled, lowering her head and looking right at him. His eyes flashed, and he said,

"Because there is an angel here with me, and I am most undeserving."

"On the contrary, Lord M. You deserve every ounce of pleasure," Victoria said.

She leaned closer to him, and his hands instantly traveled to cradle her belly. She let him rub there for a moment, and then his arms wrapped around her. One arm laced around her shoulders, and the other went to the small of her back. Victoria, for her part, threaded her own hands behind Melbourne and dragged her fingernails lightly up and down. He shivered, and she repeated the motion until she raised her hands to his shoulders and neck and massaged. She kneaded his flesh with her fingers until Melbourne whispered,

"Mmm… that feels nice."

"Do you like when I touch you?" Victoria asked. He nodded desperately.

"More than anything."

One of Victoria's hands trailed up the side of Melbourne's head, and she rubbed at his scalp with her fingernails, scratching gently as he shut his eyes and sighed. Her other hand went back down to his cock, and she pumped him a few times. Her fingers drifted down to fondle his twin orbs whilst she rubbed at his scalp. He huffed a breath and whispered,

"You will be the death of me."

"I certainly hope not," Victoria chuckled. She dragged her fingers up and down the inside of Melbourne's thigh, and she kept rubbing at his scalp. He leaned forward and took Victoria's face in his hands, and then his lips met hers. He tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth, so hard that Victoria mewled. She kissed him back, pushing her tongue between his lips. He suckled on that, too, and she felt pressure hard upon her lips. The intense kiss sent a fresh flush of damp heat between her legs, and soon enough she felt a little drizzle down the inside of her thigh. She wanted him so, so badly right now. She wanted her William, her Lord M.

He moved his mouth from hers, and she tipped her head. His lips latched onto her neck, and he dragged his teeth over her skin there. Victoria gasped as his fingers tightened on her cheeks. One arm dropped from her face then and went to her back, his fingers cinching between her shoulder blades. Victoria kept stroking his cock, and suddenly he grunted and whispered against her neck,

"You'll make me finish before we begin."

"William," Victoria hummed, but she took her hand off of him. His own hand trailed down over Victoria's breast, squeezing hard, and over the round swell of her belly. She sucked in air hard as his mouth moved on her neck and his fingers reached her womanhood. She felt his forefinger and middle finger pulsing on her nub, and she realised she was already so close to finishing that this was not going to take much at all.

He slid his two fingers back and forth around her most sensitive spot. They drifted into her entrance, and Victoria shifted on her knees, whispering softly,

"You're going to make me…"

"Good," huffed Melbourne against her neck. "Good. Victoria."

For the next minute, his fingers rubbed circles on her, then pulsed again, and then finally he twisted two fingers into her ready body and worked at her with his thumb. She tossed her head back as his mouth moved to the hollow of her throat, and she said desperately,

"William!"

She was being loud, she thought. Someone might hear. But she couldn't care. Brocket Hall was their home now. If someone heard the lord and lady of the house making love, all the better.

She came hard then, her body tightening in uneven contractions around Melbourne's two fingers. He was crushing her mouth with his, all of a sudden, and she drank in the kiss as she rode out her pleasure. She frantically kissed him back as hard as she could, tongues tangling and lips being nibbled. Eventually, she came down from her high, and Melbourne ripped his mouth from hers. Victoria panted and moaned as he withdrew his fingers from her, wiping them on his thigh. That sight made Victoria shudder, and she whispered,

"I have an idea in my mind, but I don't know…"

"Tell me," he said with a little smirk. He reached to tuck Victoria's hair behind her ear and said, "Tell me what your mind has cooked up, Victoria."

"I want you to take me from behind," she said in a shaking voice. Melbourne smiled at her then and nodded.

"Mmm. That sounds… yes."

He helped Victoria arrange herself onto her hands and knees, guiding her and placing a palm on her belly protectively as she moved into position. Victoria's hair fell down around her face, so she reached with one hand and quickly swept it over one side. She felt Melbourne's fingers dragging down her back, and then he squeezed at the cheeks of her backside. He rubbed there, and Victoria had a sudden urge.

"Smack me there."

"I couldn't, Ma'am," Melbourne whispered, but he sounded like he very much wanted to. She looked at him over her shoulder and said firmly,

"Smack me there."

Melbourne's hand came down upon her backside then, and Victoria lurched forward. She wrenched her eyes shut and mumbled,

"Oh. Once more."

Melbourne smacked the same spot, then did it a third and a fourth time. Victoria moaned like a harlot then, for it felt so very good. No one had ever smacked her like that; sex with Albert had consisted of him lying atop her and swaying.

Suddenly she felt a hard, broad push at her womanhood, and she insisted to him,

"Be inside of me now, William."

Melbourne thrust in in one fluid motion, for she was so wet that he just slid in. He pushed himself to the hilt, and Victoria gasped. She choked out a little sound as he thrust a few times, and she realised she had never, ever felt this full before. Not ever. She felt comfortable like this, even with her pregnant belly, and she thought again that there were no consequences now. It was too late for consequences. She'd abdicated. They were married. She was with child. This love-making was just that. Making love.

"Harder. Please, I beg you. Harder." Victoria felt his hands cinch upon her hips, his fingers digging hard into her flesh. His hips pistoned, slapping against hers with every thrust. She felt him filling her, then retreating, over and over again. His hand suddenly smacked her backside again, and Victoria murmured in a desperate tone,

"More. Again. Harder."

"Many demands," Melbourne joked breathlessly. She smiled to herself and said,

"It'll never be enough. Not from you."

He spanked her, then again, and again. Her skin was burning where he smacked her, and then she shut her eyes and thought she must be mad for relishing his roughness. She had been Queen; she shouldn't want her husband to smack her skin. But his little smacks felt so good. His cock deep within her felt so good. And suddenly Victoria found herself on the brink again. Everything was going tight and hot. Her ears rang, and she saw spots behind her wrenched-shut eyes. She came again, more subtly this time, and she muttered,

"Oh, this feels so good."

He'd said the same thing, she knew. They both felt good. This felt good for both of them. Her own climax seemed to have sent Melbourne over his own edge, for his hips jerked rapidly and roughly and then he stilled. He bent down and kissed at Victoria's neck, whispering with breathless pants,

"You are the… most magnificent… creature."

He was finishing. She could tell by the way he was twitching inside of her, the way she felt his fluids pumping into her in jolts and spurts. He stayed within her for a long moment, until Victoria's knees and wrists ached and she finally said,

"I can't stay like this much longer."

"Sorry," Melbourne mumbled. He pulled out of her and flopped onto his back beside her, and then he helped her lie on her side facing him. She felt the baby flutter inside of her and instinctively reached for Melbourne's hand, placing it on her belly. He felt the motion; she could tell by the flash in his eyes. He smiled a little and said softly,

"I'll teach our child how to care for orchids."

Victoria smiled, her eyes welling. She nodded and told him,

"We'll take picnics. We'll teach the baby to ride out with us."

"Well. I hope we'll let the baby grow up a little before we put them on a horse," Melbourne laughed, and Victoria grinned broadly.

"Yes. A few years until that bit."

"Will you play piano for me tomorrow?" Melbourne asked suddenly, and Victoria turned up half her mouth.

"I'm not very good. People humoured me when I was Queen."

"I'd like it very much indeed if you played piano for me and then painted for me," Melbourne said. Victoria grinned broadly and nodded.

"You'll bring me flowers from your greenhouse, and I shall paint them for you."

"That sounds like a happy day, Victoria," Melbourne said. "I am looking forward to it."

**Author's Note: Whew! Sorry that there wasn't too much substance to this chapter. Up next - some happy domesticity, but there's someone important who hasn't weighed in on the abdication yet.**

**I am very, very grateful for feedback on this story.**


	17. Chapter 17

He watched her play, a snifter of brandy in his hand, and smiled to himself. She was playing Mozart's Piano Sonata No. 14 in C Sharp Minor, and though she made periodic mistakes, her playing was perfect to Melbourne's ears.

She cast her gaze over to him from time to time and smiled, and Melbourne sipped his brandy, enjoying the sight of her and the sound of her music. They'd dined together, privately, and then she'd sketched while he sat and watched. He'd been staring at her all night, he realised, but he couldn't care.

This was bliss, Melbourne thought. Nothing could ever be better than this life, this life he'd built with Victoria.

* * *

Five weeks later, a letter came to Brocket Hall. _HRH The Duchess of York_ , it read on the outside. Victoria brought the unopened letter into the library, where Melbourne was writing about St Chrystostom.

"I recognise this script," she said, holding up the letter. Melbourne turned in his chair and frowned.

"Who is it from, Ma'am?" He still called her that, often, purely out of habit. She never corrected him. Victoria broke the seal on the letter and said,

"It's from my Uncle Leopold."

"Ah."

She pulled out the letter inside, prepared for anything. She had only spoken to her own mother twice since marrying Melbourne, and she could only imagine what the Duchess of Kent had passed on to Leopold. Victoria unfolded the letter and began to read aloud.

" _My most beloved niece, Alexandrina Victoria,_

_What an egregious mistake you have made. To surrender your crown for the life of a commoner - what folly! I can not pretend to understand what demon has possessed you to behave in this way, but I fear for you now. You are heavy with child, I know, and it is his child. Lord Melbourne's child. Riots in London threw you from your throne, and all because of your selfish and childish behaviour. How can I begin to impress upon you how very ridiculous all of this is? And now it is too late to fix any of it._

_I am ashamed of you, Alexandrina Victoria. I am filled with shame at the thought of what you have become. My heart aches for the niece I once had. My stomach churns at the thought of your new husband._

_May you be happy in the life you have chosen._

_Your loving Uncle Leopold, King of the Belgians._ "

"He doesn't sound particularly loving," Melbourne said, raising his eyebrows, "nor especially supportive."

"No. He does not. But, then, the last time I saw my mother, she called me a Jezebel," Victoria said, primly tearing up the letter. She marched over to the fireplace, which was lit owing to the chilly day outside, and tossed Leopold's letter inside.

"Will you answer him?" Melbourne asked, and Victoria shook her head.

"No," she said. "I will not. Let them all be unhappy. I am happy. I am happy with you, William. And that is all that counts."

* * *

"Christmas," Victoria sighed contentedly, looking out onto the light snow that was dusting the gardens of Brocket Hall.

"Do you know, Ma'am, that in the 1640s, Oliver Cromwell banned Christmas entirely?" Melbourne said from beside her. He put his hand on her now-enormous belly and leaned to kiss her cheek, and he murmured, "Carols were forbidden. No merry-making was allowed at all."

"How very gloomy," complained Victoria. "I adore Christmas."

"Well," said Melbourne, "I know Emily and Lord Palmerston are looking forward to Christmas dinner. And I'm truly grateful that you thought to invite my sister."

"She's always been a friend, ever since I met her," Victoria said softly, touching at the glass. "Besides, she and Lord Palmerston are a model for me. They married for love, even when everyone told them they should not."

Melbourne was quiet for a long time then. At last he whispered,

"Shall we exchange our gifts now, Ma'am?"

"Oh, yes," she gushed, turning around and grinning at him. "I'm so very excited to give you yours. Let me go fetch it."

A few minutes later, she had fetched the parcel she'd wrapped in brown paper, and she brought it back into the drawing room, where Melbourne was waiting with a small box on his lap. She smiled weakly at him and passed over the parcel, which was large and heavy. Melbourne gratefully accepted it and then sank down onto a divan before the fireplace. He began to unwrap the package, and Victoria's heart raced. What if he didn't like it? What if he thought it was a stupid gift?

But he pulled out the marble globe she'd commissioned for him, and he twirled it on its stand in apparent awe. He studied the way every country was a different colour marble, and he murmured,

"This is magnificent."

"Do you really like it?" Victoria fretted. She knitted her hands together and worried, "I thought perhaps you might not -"

"I adore it, Victoria," said Melbourne. He set the globe aside and whispered, "Thank you. Happy Christmas."

He passed over his little box, and Victoria tore at the white paper on it. She opened the box and gasped. It was a necklace of pearls and diamonds, alternating along a strand, with a mother-of-pearl pendant surrounded by little diamonds. It was a stunning necklace, absolutely gorgeous, and Victoria found herself bereft of anything to say. She just stared down at it and then finally raised her eyes to Melbourne and choked out,

"You had this made for me?"

"I know you enjoy your pearls," he said softly, and Victoria's throat went tight. She nodded and pulled out the necklace, clasping it behind her neck and patting at her throat.

"How does it look?" she asked, and Melbourne nodded vigorously.

"You look stunning, Victoria. As always."

* * *

"Stunning!" mused Emily, reaching her gloved fingers toward Victoria's necklace. She looked to her brother and smiled. "Well done, William."

"Isn't it perfect?" Victoria asked, and Emily grinned broadly.

"My, but he does love you."

"Let's eat," said Melbourne, as though he were embarrassed by all the attention. "I'm starved."

Victoria waddled rather ungracefully towards the dining room, followed by the others. Melbourne pulled out her chair at the head of the table, and Victoria marveled to see him do so instead of a servant. She sat, holding her belly and huffing a breath. As the others sat, she felt a strong contraction, and she winced.

"Are you all right, Victoria?" asked Melbourne cautiously.

"Yes," she seethed between clenched teeth. "It's just a… cramp…"

Emily stared at her brother for a long moment, and Lord Palmerston looked uncomfortable. Victoria blinked a few times until her vision steadied, and she recovered from the sharp, stinging pain of the contraction. She watched as carrot soup was served at the table, and she picked up her spoon. It shook in her hand, but she managed to bring a spoonful between her lips.

Then, suddenly, she felt a flush of soaking wet heat between her legs, and her eyes went round as saucers. The flow didn't stop; it was as though Victoria was wetting herself. She gasped and looked to Emily, who gazed at her in amazement.

"Emily," Victoria squeaked, "may I speak to you in the corridor?"

"Of course, Your Royal Highness," Emily said gravely. She came to Victoria's chair and helped her out, and Melbourne fretted,

"Whatever is wrong, Victo - oh."

He seemed to see that she'd soaked through her skirts sitting down, and then there was silence at the table. Emily guided Victoria out into the corridor and asked furtively,

"How many contractions have you had today?"

"More than usual," Victoria said tightly. She held onto her belly then, for another crippling contraction had flooded over her. She leaned heavily onto Emily, who rubbed at Victoria's arm and said softly,

"Breathe, Your Royal Highness. It is your time. We'll send for the doctor at once."

Victoria felt fear strike her through. She did not want to die in childbirth like Charlotte had done. She wanted to live, to go on happily with her Lord M. So she broke into terrified tears as Emily called out for Melbourne, and as the two of them helped her upstairs, into Augustus' old room.

* * *

Melbourne paced outside the bedroom as Victoria screamed. She let out a cry, and then there was silence, and he could hear the doctor murmuring to her. Melbourne stayed in the corridor in anxious silence for an hour of the yelling and moaning, and then he decided he'd had enough of waiting away from her. He hadn't been with Caroline for her births, but this was different. He was so very madly in love with Victoria, and he knew that she was afraid. So he pushed open the door to the bedroom, and he ignored the doctor, who indignantly exclaimed,

"My Lord! Wait outside, if you please."

"I wish to be with my wife," Melbourne said stoutly. Victoria was sobbing on the bed, her hair pulled into a messy braid over one shoulder. She held out a shaking, sweaty arm and muttered to Melbourne,

"Oh, Lord M, you've come."

"Of course I have, Ma'am," he said in return. He pulled up a chair alongside the bed and took her hand in his. "Of course I have."

"I need to push! Now!" Victoria cried out. But the doctor shook his head and said,

"Not yet, Your Royal Highness. You are in transition, and you -"

"Now!" Victoria seethed. "I need to push _now_. Agggh!"

She squeezed roughly at Melbourne's hand as a contraction ripped through her. Melbourne thought distantly about the way Emily and Lord Palmerston had gracefully gone to their guest quarters once Victoria had entered active labour. Now it was early morning, and Victoria had undoubtedly kept Emily and her husband awake. His sister wouldn't mind, Melbourne knew.

"Victoria. You are doing so well," he mused, petting at her hair. He turned to the maid who was in the room and demanded, "A damp cloth, please."

The maid instantly curtsied and walked over to a bowl of water. She dipped a washcloth into it and wrung it out, handing it to Melbourne. The water was cold, for it was winter. That would feel good on Victoria's head, he thought. He touched it to her cheeks and her forehead, and she whimpered as her eyes fluttered shut.

"I need to push," she said again, weakly, and Melbourne insisted to the doctor,

"If she feels it, then let her try."

"Yes, My Lord. Your Royal Highness, during your next contraction, bear down with all of your might." The doctor stood stiffly at the foot of the bed. The maids came up beside Victoria and helped her adjust her legs and arms to push. Melbourne helped push up the hem of her nightgown and held her hand more firmly than ever.

"Three, two, one," he murmured, for he could see that a contraction had taken Victoria over. "Push."

She gritted her teeth and groaned as she pushed. She did it with the next contraction, and the next, and the one after that. She was red-faced and soaked with sweat soon enough, and Melbourne couldn't stop thinking about what they'd discussed - a daughter called Sarah. Would she birth him a little girl called Sarah? Or would it be -

There was screaming all of a sudden, a delightful sound that simultaneously struck tremulous amazement and joy through Melbourne's heart. The sound of a baby. Victoria had birthed a baby. Their baby.

"It is a boy," said the doctor, holding the bloodied infant in his arms. He cut the umbilical cord, and the maids hurried to clean off the baby. Victoria collapsed back against the pillows as they wrapped up the baby in a neat white cloth, and she huffed and puffed as she cradled the infant against her chest.

"A boy," Melbourne said, and then he broke out into sudden sobs. He lowered his face down to Victoria's and kissed her lips gently, whispering in an almost frantic voice, "We have a little boy, Victoria."

"Henry Alexander," she whispered hoarsely, and he kissed the baby's head and murmured against his son's skin,

"Henry Alexander."

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for your patience with my updating. I have been in the hospital for four days, but I'm home now. I appreciate you reading and reviewing.**


	18. Chapter 18

"Victoria?"

"Mmm… morning," she whispered, rolling towards him. "Lord M. William."

She blinked her eyes open and saw her husband, who smiled warmly at her and whispered,

"Let's go see him before breakfast."

Victoria slowly sat up and stretched, clenching her fists above her head and arching her back a little. Melbourne grunted a little from beside her, and he informed her,

"You're more beautiful than ever."

"Hush. I'm fat." Victoria scoffed a little, but Melbourne shook his head and sighed. He petted Victoria's ribcage and murmured,

"You're softer. I quite like it."

"And you're kind," Victoria told him, "but I promise to be slim again soon."

"Victoria, you bore our child only six weeks ago," Melbourne reminded her. "There is precisely nothing saying you must be back to your original form already. Goodness… give yourself grace, Victoria."

Her eyes burned then, for she remembered the way she and Albert had fought about her becoming plump from overeating. What would Albert have thought about Victoria's body after giving birth? Did it matter now? Now, it didn't, she thought. Albert was gone, and Lord M was here.

In the six weeks since she'd birthed Henry Alexander, Victoria and her husband had grown closer than ever. Victoria had expressed that she didn't want to nurse the baby, but she'd feared Melbourne insisting upon it. Instead, he'd told her that her body was her own, and that if she wished for a wet nurse, that was what they would have. Henry Alexander would love her just the same, Melbourne had insisted. After all, Augustus had been fiercely bonded to his father, who had scarcely nursed him.

And so they had taken on a nursemaid to care for Henry during the times when Victoria and Melbourne needed privacy. Victoria was still, after all, a duchess if not the Queen. It would have been ludicrous not to have staff to care for the child. But she and Melbourne spent most of their time with Henry in their arms. Victoria would play the piano and Melbourne would sit and watch with Henry in a bassinet beside him. Just this last week, they'd gone for a brisk walk outside on an unseasonably warm day, and Victoria had carried their little baby all wrapped up in warm blankets.

Now she pulled herself out of bed and yawned, wrapping a silk dressing gown around herself and buttoning it up her front. Melbourne ensconced himself in a velvet robe and slid on his plush slippers. Then the two of them grasped hands, and she followed him out of their bedroom.

She couldn't be happier, she thought. A year earlier, she would never have fathomed living as a duchess at Brocket Hall with her beloved Lord M as her husband and the father of her child. It would have been an absurd dream. She'd known, even on the day she came here to Brocket Hall to declare her love for Lord Melbourne, that it was a distant fantasy to imagine the two of them here, together, happy. But here they were - together and happy, with their child to love.

They went down the corridor to the nursery that had been set up for Henry Alexander. His nursemaid slept in there with him; she was a girl of good breeding who had come from London on the recommendation of Harriet Sutherland.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," said Melbourne as they walked into the nursery. Elizabeth, the nursemaid, looked up and smiled from where she was tending to Henry at the dressing table.

"Morning, Your Royal Highness. My Lord."

The baby was wrapped in a blanket, and his little suit of clothes was laid out beside him. Melbourne huffed a breath from beside Victoria and asked Elizabeth.

"May I dress him?"

"Of course, My Lord," confirmed Elizabeth. Victoria watched as Melbourne strode into the room and up to the changing table. Elizabeth stepped back and bowed her head, and Melbourne gently began to unwrap the blanket from Henry. He lifted the baby up and whispered, just loudly enough for Victoria to hear,

"Sweet boy. We heard you crying for milk in the night."

"He sleeps well for a child of his age," Elizabeth insisted. "Good long stretches of sleep. He sleeps soundly, too."

Victoria gulped. She nodded as she watched Melbourne pull on the somewhat frilly ensemble over Henry's head and rotated the baby, buttoning up the back of the long gown. He picked Henry up and cradled him in his arms, staring down at him with unmistakable adoration in his pale green eyes. He asked Elizabeth,

"He's eaten, has he?"

"Yes, My Lord. Shall I take him whilst you go to breakfast?"

"I'd like to keep him," Melbourne said. "I can eat one-handed."

Victoria grinned broadly at that. Melbourne was so very attached to Henry. She felt love for her child, to be certain, but Melbourne was absolutely smitten. Victoria felt a slight distance from the baby; she couldn't help herself. There was just a little detachment between herself and Henry. Victoria didn't know why. She wouldn't have been able to explain it. But it was obvious that Melbourne was head over heels in love with his son.

The two of them walked downstairs, and Henry cooed beautifully in Melbourne's arms. Victoria reached over to pet the baby's cheek with her knuckles, and Melbourne murmured,

"Your mother and father love you dearly, Henry. Hm. Indeed we do."

"You are such a good father, William," Victoria hummed as they walked through the foyer and off to the side, through a parlour. "I feel I am a terrible mother. He feels just a little awkward in my arms."

"On the contrary, Victoria, I find you are an attentive and adoring mother to our little boy," Melbourne insisted primly. He tightened his grip a little on Henry, and as they walked into the dining room, Victoria noted,

"He looks so like you now. In his first days, he looked a little like a toad, but now he looks like you."  
Melbourne laughed at that. "A toad, Ma'am?"

"Well. Newborn babies are not so very attractive, are they?" she demanded. She raised her eyes to Melbourne, who stared ahead and sighed as he said,

"He was beautiful to me the very first instant I saw him."

Victoria licked her lips and felt incompetant again. She let the servant pull out her chair at the dining room table and then watched as William's chair was pulled out for him. Melbourne sat with Henry in his arms, and the servant asked,

"Shall I send for the nursemaid, My Lord?"

"No; I mean to hold him whilst I eat. Thank you." Melbourne smirked up at the servant, who bowed and turned away.

Another servant came in with a tray of two plates of food, placing one before Victoria and the other before Melbourne. Glasses of juice and milk were poured, and Victoria examined the food before her. Egg fritters, sausages, bread sticks with cinnamon butter, and sharp cheese. Victoria blinked a few times and wondered if she should temper herself from eating to try and get her old body back. But she remembered what Melbourne had told her. She was just a bit softer now, and he didn't mind.

As the servants retreated to the periphery of the room, Victoria raised her eyes to Melbourne and said quietly,

"It's been six weeks."

"So it has." Melbourne stared down at Henry and touched at the tip of his nose before he said, "Six wondrous weeks."

"My doctor told me to wait six weeks, for the health of my body. But I feel I am quite recovered at this point," Victoria said tightly. Melbourne seemed to realise what she meant then, and he smirked a little as he flicked his jade green eyes up to her.

"Tonight," he whispered, and Victoria shivered. They had been intimate in caressing one another, and she'd brought him pleasure with her hand a few times since Henry's birth, but they hadn't had a true marital encounter in almost two months now. Victoria felt like she was dying for want of him. Melbourne seemed to read the craving on her face, and he nodded and said again, "Tonight, Victoria."

"Thank you," she mumbled. She tucked into her food, cutting a sausage and taking a bite. She watched Melbourne adjust Henry in his arms and use his right hand to inelegantly stab at an egg fritter. He leaned over and brought the bite to his mouth, and Victoria giggled.

"It would be so much easier for you to eat if Elizabeth took care of Henry," she protested, but Melbourne shook his head and picked up a glass.

"I never, ever want to put him down. Here is something to know about children, Victoria, and I learnt it through painful experience. One day, you will pick them up, and put them down, and never pick them up again. They grow. And so, whilst Henry is very little, I shall hold him and hold him. Because one day I shall put him down and never pick him up again."

Victoria's eyes boiled with tears at that. She swallowed hard and asked, "Could I hold him for just a moment, William?"

He gave her a knowing look and nodded. He pushed back his chair and rose, and he walked over to Victoria. She took the squirming little infant from Melbourne and wrapped him up in her arms, and she stared down into his face.

"Henry," she whispered, stroking at his forehead with the knuckle of her forefinger. "How you look just like your dear Papa. Will you grow to be anything like him?"

Melbourne bent down and kissed Victoria's cheek. He murmured to her,

"See? A fine mother."

Victoria curled Henry more tightly against her body and used her right hand to pick up a buttered breadstick. She leaned over the table and took a bite, laughing a bit at her own inelegance. Melbourne went and sat back down, quickly eating his own food before taking Henry from Victoria so she could eat properly. When the two of them had finished, Melbourne suggested,

"We've another hour before Henry will need to eat again. Shall we go to the greenhouse?"

"A fine idea," Victoria agreed. She bundled herself up in a thick cloak with leather gloves, and Melbourne put on a warm coat. They swaddled Henry in a thick Scottish blanket and then headed out of Brocket Hall, walking as quickly as they could across the lawn toward the greenhouse. When they got inside, it was considerably warmer, and Victoria handed Henry to Melbourne and stripped off her cloak and bonnet, hanging them by the door. Melbourne kept his coat on and cradled Henry in his arms, walking over to his hibiscus plants. He turned Henry until he faced the plant, and he said softly,

"These are hibiscus flowers, Henry. Your Papa grows these quite carefully. And these, these are plumeria. They're difficult to keep alive in the winter, but your Papa works diligently to protect them. Just as your Papa shall protect you, my dear boy. Hmm."

Victoria felt tears bubble over her eyes and stream down her cheeks as she watched her husband with their son. She whispered to herself,

"Oh, William."

"Let's go see the roses your Mama carried on her wedding day to me," Melbourne said stoutly, and he carried Henry through the greenhouse. Victoria silently followed, her skirts dragging on the cobblestones. Melbourne paused before his pink roses, and he reached with his left hand to dust his fingertips over their petals.

"Roses," he murmured to Henry, "have thorns. One thing you will learn, Henry, is that even the most beautiful things in the world have flaws. The exception to this rule, of course, is your mother. She is beautiful and has no flaws at all. Your Mama, Henry, is a rose without thorns."

"William," Victoria whispered again. "Lord M."

He turned over his shoulder and flashed her a little smile, staring right at her as he said,

"Your Mama, Henry, is a dream made manifest."

Victoria strode up to her beloved Lord M and wrapped one arm around his shoulder. She touched at Henry's cheek, at the tiny face that so resembled his father's, and she said softly,

"You two are everything to me."

"Victoria," Melbourne said in his gentlest tone, "Are you happy?"

She met his pale green eyes and nodded vigorously. She cupped Henry's face in her palm and squeezed at Melbourne's shoulder. She thought of the wall at Dover House. She thought of marrying him, of abdicating the throne, of moving here to Brocket House. She thought of his flowers, of pearls. She thought of Melbourne's sobs in the instant Henry had been born. Her eyes seared like fire, and she cried harder than ever as she nodded again and insisted,

"I am most happy, William. I am most happy."

"As am I," he said, bending to kiss Henry's forehead. He leaned down then and planted a kiss upon Victoria's lips and purred, "So very happy."

~ _**THE END ~**_

**Author's Note: It's always difficult to know where to end a story, but this one feels like it's reached its natural conclusion. I look forward to writing more Vicbourne, and I'm so exceedingly grateful for the readership and feedback I've received for this story. Long live Vicbourne! Stay safe and healthy. Love to all.**


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